Venturing Into The Unknown
by Nothing But Bones
Summary: All of Sweets' patients are forced to attend a team-building exercise, much to the distaste of our dynamic duo. Surrounded by partners who have a strained relationship, will Brennan and Booth finally realise how special their bond really is?
1. Chapter 1

**_OK, so this is my most recent endeavour. I wasn't sure about the premise for a while, but it's been plaguing me for over a week now and I've got plenty of ideas to hand. It's going to be a multi-chapter fic and, as per 'Recklessness & Repercussions,' I've got the basics of the narrative mapped out already, so you shouldn't be left hanging on tenterhooks for more than a few days at a time. Once again, I'm branching out into new territory - I'm going to try and stay away from excessive angst and keep things relatively light-hearted, as per Kerrie's request. Consider this to be your belated birthday present, mumrulz :-) I'm not saying that there won't be a few tear-jerking moments, but Brennan and Booth's relationship won't be put into peril at any point, I promise. Team building exercises are all about forging a stronger connection, after all. Oh, and getting intimately acquainted in a tent... if you're lucky ;-)_**

**_Please let me know your thoughts! _**

* * *

The crowded parking lot that catered for the Hoover building's personnel had an excellent security system, but Booth still didn't like the idea of abandoning his vehicle for five days. The bitterly cold weather was going to wreak havoc with his battery and the fact that he was being forced to forsake his SUV's cushy interior for the threadbare offerings of a dilapidated minibus just made matters worse. Slamming the lid of his trunk shut, he effortlessly shouldered his backpack before circling the car to ensure that it was secured.

Brennan watched him wordlessly, donning her gloves and scarf and making little effort to conceal the fact that she would much rather be elsewhere. She wasn't surprised when Booth moved to intercept her own unwieldy rucksack, but she promptly snatched it out of his grasp, her defiant glare silently daring him to make a comment about its hefty weight.

Booth promptly abandoned any notions of chivalry and offered Brennan a rueful grin. He had been about to remark how cute she looked in her knitted Chullo hat, but when his partner's frosty demeanour showed no signs of thawing, he heaved a disgruntled sigh instead.

"Look, Bones, if you want to blame someone, then save the abuse for Sweets, OK? Because I'm just as pissed off about this as you are."

Brennan's fierce scowl didn't falter. "Oh, really? Then why didn't you make more of an effort to convince Cullen what an idiotic idea this is?" she countered angrily. "I mean, our success rate speaks for itself, Booth. You said that we've solved more cases than the rest of your colleagues combined."

Booth rolled his eyes. "Come on, Bones, we may be the front-runners in our division, but that was obviously an exaggeration."

Brennan fell into step alongside her partner en route to the elevator, quickly adjusting to the weight of her backpack. "Well, even so, any imbecile could ascertain that we work well together."

"Yeah, we do," Booth readily agreed, although his tone was somewhat weary. He was loath to provide Bones with any more fodder for her impending tirade. He'd already had his ear chewed off for the duration of their journey, and it wasn't even 9am yet.

"I mean, how can Sweets even begin to justify nominating us for this glorified 'team building exercise?'" Brennan demanded after a moment's respite, her features twisting into a look of distaste. "I thought these sorts of… excursions… were designed for partners who have a strained relationship? Surely someone with his credentials can see that we're not even eligible candidates, unless we're providing an example of what everyone else should be aspiring to?"

"I guess we'd better start working on some lesson plans then," Booth remarked with a teasing grin, inordinately pleased that Bones was so quick to defend their partnership.

"It's not funny, Booth," Brennan reprimanded him with a disapproving glare, "Sweets said himself that we make a complementary team, so this reeks of hypocrisy. And as for Dr Saroyan…" Brennan's diatribe momentarily waned as she sucked in a deep breath, "I'm frankly appalled that she would sanction something so preposterous. She of all people should know that I have far more pressing matters to attend to."

"What, and I don't?" Booth retorted, his tone betraying his mounting frustration. "You think I want to spend five days listening to you griping about something that isn't even my fault? You wanted to spend your weekend polishing the bones of some ancient Bronze Age warrior; I wanted to spend my weekend with Parker. Instead, we're stuck playing Tarzan and Jane out in the wilderness somewhere." Booth jabbed repeatedly at the button designed to summon the elevator. "Shit happens, Bones, and I don't like it anymore than you do, but this exercise is mandatory for all the Agents having therapy with Sweets – "

"But I'm not an Agent," Brennan interjected, regarding him pointedly, "I'm a consultant, not an employee, so why do the FBI assume that they have jurisdiction over my schedule?"

"Because you're my partner, Bones, and you can't demand to be given the same rights as all the other Agents - you can't ask to undertake fieldwork and have access to every facet of the investigation - if you think you warrant special treatment the rest of the time. So, unless you want to be lumbered with a new partner, you're going to have to put up or shut up like everyone else, OK?"

Her partner's tone was sharp, and Brennan flinched slightly, biting her lip. They boarded the elevator in silence, and she chanced a fleeting glance at Booth's expression. His jaw was set in a grim line and his eyes were dark with anger. When they fixed on her own, she promptly lowered her gaze.

"I'm sorry that you're going to miss out on your weekend with Parker," she offered after a moment's hesitation, her meek tone barely audible.

Booth sighed aggrievedly, and then nudged her gently with his elbow. "And I'm sorry that you have to neglect your crusty old skeleton, too, OK?" He regarded her with twinkling eyes, and his features gradually softened into a look of unmistakable affection. "Look, this is a pain in the ass for both of us, Bones, but I promise it isn't going to be anywhere near as awful as you think. Just think of it as a free holiday - courtesy of the Bureau." The elevator doors opened, and he stepped out, turning to face his partner with a disarming grin. "Besides… you've got me for company," he reminded her, quirking an eyebrow as he guided her towards the front of the building, "How bad can it be?"

The prominent furrow in Brennan's brow gradually evened out, replaced by a small smile. "I suppose it could be worse," she conceded begrudgingly.

"That's the spirit, Bones. And you know what?" Booth leaned towards her conspiratorially, "The last time I went on one of these things, they had us pairing off for target practice, so you might even get your hands on a gun if you play your cards right."

Brennan brightened considerably. "I'm very proficient at playing cards," she informed him happily, "Especially the more tactical games. I always beat my father, and he was the prison champion." An expression of confusion clouded her attractive features. "Booth? Why are you laughing?" She punched him lightly in the stomach. "They will let me have a gun, right?"

"I hope so, Bones," Booth choked out, clearing his throat as he tried to rein in another round of laughter at the expense of his partner's literality.

As they exited the parking lot and progressed further down the block, a group of eight disparate Agents gradually became visible. Most of them were clad in bulky winter coats and sporting packs of their own. They were congregating outside of a 17-seater minibus, and Booth inwardly cringed when he considered how confined the space was going to be once all of their equipment was loaded. The Powers-That-Be were keeping their destination a secret, probably to avoid them plotting their escape route, but the hiking boots, tents and sleeping bags that everyone had been instructed to bring were a clear indication that they would be camping out - which probably wouldn't go down too well, considering the bitterly cold climate. If Booth had to hazard a guess, they were most likely heading for George Washington National Forest, and that was nearly three hours away - probably closer to four given that the minibus was unlikely to exceed 50 m/p/h. He just hoped everyone had taken a long shower and sprayed a liberal amount of antiperspirant this morning, because they weren't going to be able to open the windows without contracting frostbite.

Brennan eyed Booth's diverse collection of colleagues warily. They were still several yards away from the congregation point so she had plenty of time to gauge the dynamics of the group before they acknowledged her approach. She had expected the other partners to be standing alongside each other, but instead the small crowd had separated into two gender-specific groups, making it almost impossible to determine who was paired with whom. The youngest member of the women's group was a petite blonde who looked to be in her mid-twenties. She was clad in tight-fitting jeans, Ugg boots and a faux-leather jacket that was clearly designed to compliment her figure, rather than retain warmth. Her well-proportioned face was caked in an excessive amount of make-up considering the context, but she nevertheless knew how to apply it effectively as it served to compliment her attractive features.

The blonde was chatting animatedly with a woman who looked to be around ten years her senior. She was also striking, but her chiselled cheekbones and strong jaw line gave her a far more androgynous air. She appeared to be even taller than Brennan herself and wore no discernable make-up. Her almond-shaped eyes were encircled by fine lines, which crinkled appealingly when she smiled, giving her an approachable aura that belied her rigid posture and aggressive stance. Her brown hair was short, but stylish, and she had - like Brennan herself - opted to don clothing that was practical and comfortable, rather than flattering. A short, stout woman in her early forties stood on the fringe of the group, pleasant looking, but comparatively plain. She was mostly silent, but Brennan was surprised to note that when she talked, the other two women listened attentively, occasionally breaking into rambunctious laughter. They appeared to be a relatively cohesive unit, and Brennan immediately doubted her ability to integrate with them effectively.

The men formed an even more eclectic ensemble. There were five of them in total, and her attention was immediately drawn to a lofty Hispanic man in his early forties simply because he was the only one who wasn't vying for dominance by talking as loudly as possible. He wasn't conventionally attractive, but he had an air of self-possession and piercing dark eyes that spoke in his favour. He looked thoroughly disinterested in his colleagues' antics, and clearly had no time for puerile jokes. In stark contrast, the youngest of the group was an overly preened, but admittedly handsome Caucasian who seemed to be keen to make up for his short stature and comparative inexperience by drawing as much attention to himself as possible. He was gesticulating wildly, regaling his fellow Agents with what was no doubt a tawdry anecdote, and they were humouring him with hearty guffaws. Brennan was somewhat surprised to see an overweight, silver-haired man who looked ready for retirement whole-heartedly joining in, his jowls wobbling in the process. The forth man - a nondescript Caucasian who looked to be in his early thirties – intermingled with the crowd but did little to compel the others' attention, unlike the attractive African-American Agent who exuded confidence and had a salient presence within the group.

The women were the first to acknowledge their arrival, and Brennan shifted uncomfortably as they studied her with something akin to disdain. Their gazes swept over every inch of her physique, leaving her feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious, and she wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or affronted when their attention shifted away from her and became firmly affixed on Booth. Brennan knew her partner was an attractive man – he easily outshone the competition – but she was astounded when the women began nudging each other and whispering amongst themselves like teenaged girls. She glanced at Booth to gauge his reaction, but he seemed to be oblivious to their fawning, at least until the young blonde levelled a beaming smile in their direction, wiggling her fingers in a flirtatious wave.

"Seeley!" she exclaimed, making her way towards them. "We were beginning to think that you'd abandoned us."

Brennan thought her partner's good-natured smile looked a little forced.

"Nope, we're raring to go," he assured the slender woman, placing a hand on the small of Brennan's back and ushering her forwards. "Bones, this is Alex Johnson, she graduated from Quantico last year and then transferred here from the Buffalo field office a couple of months ago. Alex, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan."

"Pleased to meet you," Brennan said politely, removing her glove and proffering her hand. Alex obligingly shook it, but failed to return Temperance's attempt at a friendly smile.

"Yeah, you too," the young Agent murmured noncommittally, quickly returning her attention to Booth. "So, it looks like they've hired some disgustingly perky Events Co-ordinator to baby-sit us," she informed him, rolling her eyes. "Some kid with bangs and freckles. Seriously, she looks even younger than Sweets, and we're supposed to be following her lead?" Alex started to laugh. "God knows how much coffee she must have downed to be that chipper first thing in the morning, and you should have seen what she was wearing. I mean, they had to be the pinkest, fuzziest ear muffs I've ever seen."

"The colour is unlikely to detract from their ability to provide thermal insulation," Brennan informed her, eliciting a snort from Booth.

Alex regarded her disbelievingly. "Yeah, whatever," she said dismissively, barely glancing in Brennan's direction.

Booth watched as a look of confusion briefly registered on his partner's features, and then Bones bowed her head, studying the sidewalk intently. He edged a little closer to her, lightly bumping her shoulder. When she glanced up at him sharply, he offered her a warm smile until her lips began to quirk in response. "So…" he ventured, eyeing Alex warily, "Where's Little Miss Sunshine now?"

"Cullen's playing hostess and serving up breakfast for her in his office, and the stupid fucking driver decided to lock all the doors before he went along for the free meal ticket. I think I can safely say that none of us appreciate being left to freeze our asses off out here," she whined, her full lips forming a petulant pout.

"Uh-huh." Booth was starting to look bored, and Alex made a hasty attempt to re-engage him.

"I've got to say, Seeley, I'm surprised to see you here," she admitted, offering him a disarming smile. "I thought you and Dr Brennan were supposed to be tight?"

Brennan sent a quizzical look in her partner's direction, and Booth looped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him in a half-embrace. "We are," he stated flatly, promptly releasing his partner when she sent a murderous glance in his direction.

"Oh." Alex looked vaguely disappointed. "Because I was going to say, if the bone lady is jonesing for a new partner, then I'd be happy to pick up the slack, so to speak."

"Booth, I think she's propositioning you," Brennan whispered in the vicinity of her partner's ear, earning a glare from Alex and a chuckle from Booth himself.

Brennan eyed the blonde Agent coldly, folding her arms. "Barring any extenuating circumstances, I intend to continue working with Agent Booth for the foreseeable future."

Booth grinned, sending an apologetic shrug in Alex's direction. "Sorry, Alex, it looks like I'm already spoken for." Deciding that the blonde had wasted enough of their time, he tugged on his partner's sleeve. "Come on Bones, let's do the rounds. I'll introduce you to everyone."

Brennan followed him willingly at first, grateful for an opportunity to create some distance between herself and Alex, who was now regarding her with inexplicable, but palpable, contempt. However, as they moved closer towards the rest of the group, her pace slowed considerably, and it didn't take Booth long to notice that she was visibly hanging back.

"Hey," he said quietly, turning to face her. "What's wrong?"

"I just… I don't… what if nobody likes me?" Brennan finally blurted out, studiously evading his gaze.

"Then they're a bunch of idiots," Booth reassured her without a moment's hesitation. "Look, Bones, I know Alex was a bitch back there, but don't let her get to you, OK? I'm not one for buying into rumours, but I've seen and heard enough to figure out that she's not someone I want to socialise with after hours. She'll zero in on any eligible guy in her vicinity, and the fact that we're… you know… a pretty close team, means that she probably sees you as a threat, that's all."

"A threat?" Brennan echoed, raising her eyebrows. "I can't see why. I mean, isn't she the epitome of your usual type? Tall… shapely… blonde…"

"Nah, Bones, she's not my type at all." _She's not you_, he inwardly added, resisting the urge to heave a plaintive sigh. "Between you and me, back in Buffalo, Alex seemed to have some trouble grasping the concept of professional boundaries…" A grin slowly began to spread across Booth's face, "Which is why Cullen decided to partner her with Bob over there." He gestured to the silver-haired, obese Agent who Brennan had previously decided was far too old for fieldwork.

Brennan couldn't help but smile. "Really?"

"Oh yeah, they get along like a house on fire," Booth snorted sarcastically, shaking his head. "Bob's got three decades worth of experience behind him and he's firmly entrenched in the old school mentality; she's fresh out of the Academy and thinks she knows it all. They're supposed to be learning from each other, but watching them interact is car-crash TV. Suffice it to say that Sweets won't be begging to follow _them_ around anytime soon."

"Well, we clashed a lot at the beginning of our partnership, too," Brennan reminded him, smiling softly. "It doesn't necessarily mean that they're a lost cause. Maybe, in time, they really will learn something from each other."

"I never had you pegged for an idealist, Bones," Booth teased with an affectionate grin. "But trust me, what we had back then does not remotely resemble what happens when those two are forced into a confined space together. I mean, you'll see for yourself soon enough. They don't have an iota of respect for one another." He regarded her intently for a moment, before lowering his gaze. "Look, I know we've had our fair share of disagreements, but I respected you from the outset, Bones. I hope you know that."

Brennan brushed her fingers lightly against her partner's hand. "I did. I _do_," she hastily amended, offering him a warm smile.

"Good." Booth reached out, gently tugging the woollen rim of his partner's hat further over her ears. "Now come on, let's get this whole 'meet and greet' crap over with before people start thinking that we're anti-social."


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the less than ideal circumstances, everyone scrambled to board the mini-bus when the driver finally made an appearance, eager for a reprieve from the biting wind. It was, as Booth had predicted, cramped. The trunk was already filled to its maximum capacity with the equipment their Guide had brought along, so the limited floor space and small number of spare seats were destined to become cluttered with everyone's baggage.

Most of the male Agents chose to situate themselves towards the front of the vehicle. Bob Norris, the eldest member of the group, was at the forefront of the bus – next to the driver – and had the most legroom at his disposal. He was flanked by Otis Lewis, the handsome African-American Agent who had greeted Brennan warmly and made her feel considerably more at ease. Otis opted for the window seat in a row of three conjoined spaces, and Dean Stubbs - the dreary Agent who effortlessly blended into the background - sank into the aisle seat, propping his backpack between them.

Agent Mark Simmons, the young, obnoxious rookie who was clearly more interested in ascertaining what was beneath Brennan's winter coat than making her feel welcome, was forced to move onto the next row. He took the double seat, using his rucksack to bolster his back, and promptly stretched his legs across the adjoining space.

Next to board the bus was Jenny, their overly exuberant guide, and Mark promptly levelled an obsequious smile in her direction. Relieved to stumble across someone who wasn't regarding her with disdain, Jenny immediately took the single seat parallel to Mark's own, striking up an inane conversation about the calamitous weather.

"We're calling dibs on the table," Alex announced loudly, making a beeline for the compact plastic table that was situated between two sets of double seats. The seats in question were facing each other, deviating from the standard design, and Brennan was disappointed that she and Booth hadn't had the opportunity to claim them. Alex opted to face the rear of the vehicle, and the two remaining female Agents settled into the seats directly opposite her.

The reticent Sergio Lorenzo appropriated the remaining standalone seat, removing his Ipod and a worn book from his rucksack; making it clear that he wasn't prepared to rely on anyone else for entertainment.

"It looks like we're stuck with the back seat then, Bones," Booth observed in a jokingly suggestive manner, ushering his partner ahead of him towards the rear of the vehicle. Brennan placed her backpack carefully on the floor, wondering why he was smiling to himself.

"I promise I'm going to be a lot more sympathetic next time you complain about the FBI's frugality," she said dryly.

"Come on, three seats between the two of us isn't that bad. You can even put your feet up if you want." Booth patted the seat between them, and Brennan shook her head, rolling her eyes.

"I'm fine, thank you, Booth." It took her a moment to realise that they were the only partners who had opted to sit together, and she immediately wondered whether her earlier misgivings had left Booth feeling obliged to keep her company. "You know, you don't have to baby-sit me," she informed him quietly, "You're welcome to sit with your friends."

"I already am," Booth said definitively, and Brennan's cheeks warmed slightly in response.

"I just thought… you know… that you probably don't get much time to fraternise with the other Agents because you're always… with me."

"Well, there's no where else I'd rather be, Bones," Booth assured her jovially, winking in a bid to detract from the sentimentality of his statement.

Brennan stared at him for a moment, her pink-tinged cheeks growing even hotter, and then cleared her throat. "Do you think it's going to be a long journey?" she asked after a moment's silence, and Booth nodded regretfully.

"Yeah. It wouldn't surprise me if we're on the road for a few hours."

Teresa White, the attractive, androgynous Agent who seemed to be close friends with Alex Johnson, sighed aggrievedly. "Well, we'd better fucking not be, or else I'm going to wind up with DVT. This is worse than being stuck in economy class," she protested loudly, looking pointedly in the direction of their Guide, whose infectious smile didn't falter.

Jenny stood up, holding out a mitten-clad hand for silence. "OK everyone, just pipe down for a moment. We'll be setting off in a second and yes, I'm not going to lie to you, we're going to be cooped up in here for a while, but Jeff – " she gestured to the driver – "is going to be stopping for regular breaks and we're going to ensure that you're all fed and watered. As you know, the Bureau are coughing up for your meals, so we'll stop for an hour or so at midday and you can re-fuel properly then."

"Where? At McDonalds? I guess it'll be value meals all around, then. Did Cullen give you some coupons?" Agent Lewis asked and everyone, with the exception of Brennan, started to laugh.

Jenny was beginning to look a little flustered, but the radiant smile remained firmly affixed to her face. "Oh, no, it's nothing like that. We'll just stop at a rest area or something. I mean, they have restaurants, right?"

"Well yeah, if you come from a trailer park, I guess they'd qualify as restaurants," Sandra Rivers deadpanned. The plump, middle-aged woman's comment earned another round of laughter.

"And you'd know, right, Sandy?" Mark Simmons hollered sarcastically. "'Cos with the way my donuts keep disappearing, I wouldn't have thought haute cuisine was your kind of thing."

"Says the guy who lives on chips and cheeseburgers," Sandra retorted, her cheeks reddening.

"Hey, babe, I can't help it if my metabolism is better than yours. Maybe next time a perp does a runner, you can pursue him for a change. You never know, you might drop a few pounds." Mark offered his partner a beguiling grin, but it didn't take the sting out of his words.

"You know what, _honey_, I'd be happy to take a more active role in our partnership, because if I remember rightly, the last perp you tried to chase down hightailed it over a chain link fence and you ripped your pants apart trying to follow him." Sandra returned Mark's fading grin with a decidedly smug smirk, knowing she'd won that argument.

Brennan watched the heated exchange with her mouth hanging open, her wide eyes flitting back and forth between the contemptuous duo in obvious fascination. Booth was already grinning despairingly at his colleagues' antics, but when he saw his partner's expression of utter consternation, he had to laugh.

"See what I mean?" he whispered, tapping her gently on the thigh. "We've got front row seats at the circus, Bones."

"OK, everyone, can we save the name-calling for the playground, please?" Jenny implored, her anxious expression an obvious testimony to the daunting task ahead of her.

"And that's coming from someone who looks like she's fresh out of junior high?" Teresa said in a stage whisper that was excruciatingly audible.

To Jenny's credit, she didn't flinch. The petite redhead simply waited until there was some sense of decorum before continuing. "OK, guys, as you know, the next five days are all about providing you with the tools needed to strengthen your respective partnerships, because I'm a firm believer that everyone has the capacity to work well together if they're willing to make allowances for each other's differences. Most of you are in therapy with Dr Sweets because you've struggled to gel in some way – "

"Excuse me," Brennan interjected, standing up to obtain Jenny's attention, "That's not true. Booth and I were forced into therapy because he arrested my father on suspicion of murder and his superiors envisaged that it might cause a ruction between us, but it hasn't," she stated categorically. "Booth and I are still very good friends."

"Sit down, Bones," Booth hissed, acutely aware of the censorious glances being sent in his partner's direction.

Jenny looked faintly bewildered. "Oh… well… that's great Dr Brennan," she stuttered, frowning when everyone started to titter amongst themselves. "Anyway… as I was saying, the next few days are all about learning how to deal with conflict, and a big part of that is getting to know each other better, understanding what makes your partner tick, how their mind works, and how you fit into their world view. We've got lots of activities planned, and all of them involve working with your partner towards a common goal, and in the process, hopefully you'll come to acknowledge their good points, and learn how to deal with their less favourable qualities, too. By the end of the course, we should be looking at five very effective teams."

"Yeah, right," Teresa murmured, and Sandra nodded her head vehemently in agreement.

"They think they can train me to deal with Mark's 'less favourable qualities' in five days? Hell, it's gonna take me a fucking lifetime," she joked.

"More like a millennium's worth of reincarnation," Alex amended, turning around to glance hostilely in Bob's direction. "I mean, at least Mark's OK to look at. You should try being stuck in a SUV with bruiser Bob over there. The smell alone is enough to knock you out, but if I hear one more lecture about how they used to do things back in the good old days, I swear I'm gonna fucking scream."

Booth sent a plaintive glance in his partner's direction. "Maybe the backseat wasn't such a good idea after all," he whispered, gesturing discreetly in the direction of Sandra, Teresa and Alex, "Because I'm not sure if I can stand listening to them bitching all the way to fucking Timbuktu."

"Timbuktu is in Africa, Booth. Given that we're on a minibus, and not a plane, I think it's highly unlikely that we're headed there."

Booth shook his head in exasperation, though he couldn't help but laugh. "It's just an expression, Bones. It's like saying that we're headed for a far away place, that's all."

"Oh." Brennan looked pensive for a moment, and then regarded him with an aggrieved expression. "I still can't comprehend why we're here, Booth. We're already an exceptionally effective team."

"_We're already an exceptionally effective team_," Alex mimicked with uncanny accuracy, underestimating Booth's exceptional hearing.

"Yes, we are," he said loudly, glancing pointedly at Alex through the gap in the seats until she and her friends abruptly stopped laughing. "Have you checked the departmental statistics lately, Johnson? Because if I remember rightly, our names were at the top of the list and yours was lagging somewhere near the bottom."

Alex looked suitably chastised. "Come on, Booth, I've only been here for a couple of months. Aren't you going to give me a chance to prove myself?" She sent a flirtatious smile in his direction, hoping to appease the angry glint in his eyes, but he promptly turned away from her.

"So, Bones, any ideas on how to pass the time?" he asked, noticing that their driver was now heading Westbound on the I-66.

"Actually, Agent Booth, I've already got that covered," Jenny announced, making her way down the aisle and handing out worksheets and pens. "I've got some tasks here that should keep you amused for a while, but I'm warning you in advance that you're going to have to switch seats and sit with your partners at some point."

"I'm sorry. Are you qualified to be administering psychometric tests?" Brennan demanded, glancing at the worksheets derisively.

"Bones…" Booth said warningly, seeing Jenny's alarmed expression.

"Um… I'm not… I mean, they're just some exercises designed to foster better communication between you and Agent Booth, that's all," Jenny reassured her haltingly.

"And what if I resent the assumption that there's something wrong with how we communicate in the first place?" Brennan countered, somewhat belligerently.

"With all due respect, Dr Brennan, I'm sure Dr Sweets wouldn't have sent you here if he thought you and Agent Booth were functioning at your optimum potential." Jenny's tone was pacifying, but it didn't have the desired effect.

Brennan's azure eyes narrowed perceptibly. "_Excuse me?_"

Booth decided that now would probably be a good time to intervene and placed a hand on his partner's forearm. "Come on, Bones, cut the kid a break and save the interrogation for Sweets. She's only trying to do her job."

"Fine," Brennan huffed, folding her arms and turning to gaze out of the window at the nondescript scenery.

Jenny shot a beaming smile in Booth's direction, before gently patting a brooding Brennan on the shoulder. "Dr Brennan… I think you should know that what you're doing right now… well, it's not an example of effective communication," she informed her, making her way up the aisle before Brennan had the chance to respond.

Once she had distributed all of the paperwork, Jenny situated herself at the front of the bus, rubbing her hands together gleefully. "OK, everyone, we're going to tackle exercise number one first."

"Where's the logic in that?" Sandra muttered, earning a round of laughter from Teresa and Alex.

Brennan, however, was well aware that Booth was laughing at Jenny's earlier remark regarding her petulance, rather than at Sandra's sardonic sense of humour. "Stop laughing at me Booth," she growled, frowning when her partner's sniggering promptly increased in intensity. Booth showed no signs of obliging, so she kicked his foot with the heel of her boot, not realising that he'd already removed his shoes and placed them under the seat. A look of horror registered on Brennan's features when her partner let out a restrained yelp of pain, flinching away from her as though he'd been burned.

"Oh my God, Booth… your feet… I'm so sorry," she whispered, her hand flying to her mouth in genuine consternation. Booth brought his knees to his chest, cradling his right foot in his hands, and Brennan guiltily observed his pursued lips and ashen features. "I'm so sorry," she repeated, her voice audibly cracking, and Booth regarded her sharply.

"OK Bones, don't make a scene," he muttered darkly, glancing around to see whether they'd garnered any unwanted attention. "I'll be fine," he added, his tone losing its brusque quality in the face of Brennan's genuine remorse.

They were silent for a moment, and Booth stretched his legs across the middle of their conjoined seats, removing his warm coat and tossing it over his beleaguered feet. The cold always made them ache, so they were more sensitive to pain in general, but Bones couldn't have known that. He glanced at her surreptitiously, nudging her thigh with his toes, and when she finally met his gaze, her desolate expression made his chest tighten in empathy.

"Hey," he murmured, nudging her again and offering her a soft smile. "Don't worry about it - really. I know you didn't mean to hurt me, Bones. I'm fine," he reassured her, forcing his tone to remain light.

Brennan didn't offer a reply, but Booth was taken aback when her hand snuck beneath the fabric of his coat, resting awkwardly against his ankle before she gently started rubbing his injured foot. He wiggled his toes to prove that she hadn't crippled him on a permanent basis, and his eyes crinkled at the corners when Bones emitted a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter.

Their eyes locked, and they shared a warm smile until Brennan gently patted his foot and turned her attention to the worksheets. _"Write your partner's name in the middle of the space below and then fold this piece of paper in half – vertically, not horizontally,"_ she read aloud.

They both obliged, rolling their eyes at the perceived inanity of the task.

"_In the left hand section, list up to fifteen words/phrases that you would use to describe your partner's positive attributes. In the right hand section, list up to fifteen words/phrases to describe their less desirable traits. Then, think about how these qualities enhance / undermine your partnership. Remember – honesty is the best policy."_

Brennan looked thoughtful for a moment, and then shrugged resignedly. "I guess it could be interesting," she conceded.

Apparently, her opinion deviated from the general consensus.

"You're kidding me, right?" Teresa demanded, her tone dripping with scorn. "You expect me to fill half a sheet of paper with Lewis' good points? I could fit them on a friggin' postage stamp!" she exclaimed, her voice easily travelling the short distance to where her partner was sitting.

Otis shook his head, heaving a long-suffering sigh. "I suppose I should list that razor sharp wit of yours as a positive trait," he hollered sarcastically, and Booth grinned in approval at his classy comeback.

Brennan tapped her partner lightly on the shoulder. "What caused their combative relationship?" she whispered, and Booth held a finger up, hastily scrawling something on a spare sheet of paper before handing it to her discreetly.

_'Their politics clash. Typical Republican vs Democrat. Otis thinks Teresa's a Neo Nazi, she thinks he's a bleeding heart. She believes in the death penalty; Otis is all about rehabilitation. He looks at a perp and sees a victim of society, Teresa just sees a scumbag, irrespective of the circumstances. They're supposed to be finding a middle ground; instead it's like a war zone. Otis is a good guy, though.'_

Brennan nodded, neatly folding the piece of paper and handing it back to her partner. "That was an excellent summary. Thank you," she said, and Booth regarded her with an odd expression, before shaking his head amusedly.

"You're welcome, Bones. Now, come on, let's get this over with," he said, tapping her worksheet pointedly.

Brennan retrieved her backpack from underneath their seat, pulling out two cumbersome journals. "Would you like to borrow one of my books to lean on?" she asked, and Booth's eyes widened to comical proportions.

"Jeez, Bones, that's not a book, it's a freakin' Encyclopaedia," he observed wryly, nevertheless taking one of the proffered books and propping it against his knee. "No wonder your pack weighs a ton."

Brennan didn't respond, she was already engrossed in her task, and seeing the contemplative look on her face, Booth hastily turned his attention to thinking about his partner's positive traits. _'Gifted'_ was the first thing that sprang to mind, and he jotted it down accordingly. Brennan was formidable in her working environment, and it didn't take him long to come up with the words _'focussed,'_ _'incisive,'_ and _'judicious,' _too. His partner was uber rational and unwilling to entertain conjecture, which often irked him, but in terms of their professional relationship, it meant that her evidence was always compelling. After a moment's deliberation, he wrote down _'meticulous'_ and _'irrefutable logic.'_ Bones was never going to be able to blend in with a crowd, but Booth knew her social skills had drastically improved since the beginning of their partnership. Tapping his pen against his lips pensively, he begrudgingly acknowledged that she was _'a quick study.'_

He smiled as he inwardly considered Brennan's tenuous grasp of tact, and wrote down _'genuine – what you see is what you get,'_ quickly followed by, _'honest/trustworthy.'_ There was no denying that Bones had been through a lot in her lifetime; anyone else would have given up along time ago, but every time she was dealt a blow, she invariably bounced back. _'Resilient,'_ and _'strong-minded,'_ were the adjectives that came to mind. He realised, then, that a lot of the terms he'd used to describe his partner were work-oriented. Over the years, he'd had an unprecedented insight into the woman behind the mask of consummate professionalism and, strangely enough, the first word that sprang to mind was _'entertaining.'_ Her squint-speak occasionally sent him into a trance, but when you stripped away the jargon, his partner's quirks and burgeoning sense of humour were pretty comical. Booth had decided quite some time ago that Bones didn't smile nearly often enough, and there was no denying that he loved the sound of her laughter. He sent a surreptitious glance in his partner's direction, and was surprised to find her studying him intently.

"What are you thinking about, Bones?" he ventured, offering her a teasing grin. "All good things, I hope?"

"Well, isn't that the point of the exercise, Booth? I'm still in the process of summarising your desirable traits."

"As if fifteen words could even begin to do me justice," he kidded, and she rolled her eyes indulgently.

"Well, modesty certainly won't be amongst them, that's for sure."

Booth edged closer towards her, peeking sneakily at her worksheet. "Then why have you put that I'm 'humble,' then? Isn't that the same thing?"

"Booth!" Brennan protested, hugging her worksheet against her chest. "Stop cheating!"

"It's OK, Bones, I've got plenty of nice things to say about you, too," he reassured her with a quirked eyebrow and a disarming grin.

Brennan blushed, and looked away, and Booth smiled softly to himself, scoring the word _'beautiful,'_ onto his paper without even engaging his brain. He rounded off with _'independent,'_ and _'special,'_ but inwardly acknowledged that he could spend the entire duration of the journey thinking of superlatives to describe his partner, and it still wouldn't be long enough.

He chanced another fleeting glance in Bones' direction, and was dismayed to see her scribbling furiously in the right hand column of her page. _Charming_, he thought wryly, especially considering that she'd been markedly more sporadic about jotting down his positive qualities. Well, two could play that game.

'_Argumentative,' 'stubborn,' 'patronising,' 'cocky,' 'unreasonable,' 'contradictory,' 'reckless with regard to her own safety,' 'sees things in black and white,' 'tactless,' 'socially naïve,'_ he wrote in quick succession, and then promptly reached a stumbling block. He wracked his brain for more options, but none seemed to be forthcoming.

He hated the fact that his partner was emotionally fragile, and cynical, and slow to trust. He didn't like the way she detached herself from a situation when she couldn't deal with its implications, either, or how much of a struggle it was for him to overcome her inherently introverted nature. But none of those things were Bones' fault, really; they were all part of an inbuilt defence mechanism that - if Booth was honest with himself - made her all the more intriguing. His partner was a tough nut to crack, but when she opened up to him or let her guard down; when she sought out his embrace or regarded him with eyes that were sparkling with warmth, Booth felt like he'd won the goddamn lottery. And he wasn't going to hold her accountable for doubting people's motives; hell, he'd probably do the same thing if he'd endured the blows that Bones had weathered with remarkable resoluteness. Heaving a sigh, Booth set his pen down. He was done, despite being five words short of his target.

Shortly thereafter, Jenny stood up again, clapping her hands together like a demented seal in a bid to gain their attention.

"Has everyone finished writing?" she asked, and a chorus of snide remarks ensued. "Great!" she exclaimed with contrived enthusiasm, aiming yet another glowing smile in their general direction. "OK, so here's what I want you to do now. We're going to reach our first rest stop in about forty-five minutes… "

"Thank fuck," Sergio mumbled, the first words he had uttered since boarding the bus.

" …Which gives us just enough time to finish up this task and make some headway with exercise number two," Jenny concluded. "Now, I know most of you aren't going to be very happy about this, but I'm going to ask you to temporarily relinquish your current places to sit besides your partners."

There was a collective groan that showed no signs of dwindling, so Jenny was forced to raise her voice several decibels. "Come on, guys, let's get moving," she urged, heaving an aggrieved sigh when Otis and Dean were the only two Agents to stand up.

The redhead's composure was quickly crumbling, and she started wringing her hands anxiously.

"Look, I don't want to play the bad guy here, but you should know that I've been instructed to compile a detailed report on your behaviour during this course, so if you don't do as I ask and persist in being un-cooperative, I'm afraid that Deputy-Director Cullen is going to hear about it," Jenny informed them, doing her best to sound assertive.

"Ah, so she's issuing us with ultimatums now," Bob observed, eliciting a grin from Jeff, the driver who he'd quickly befriended. "So much for team spirit, sweetheart. I thought you were supposed to be leading by example?"

"OK, that's enough!" Booth suddenly roared, realising that Jenny was on the verge of tears. "We're supposed to be professionals, not fucking kindergartners, so show a little respect and do as the lady says. _Now._"

Sergio gave him a curt nod, placing his Ipod in his pocket before moving to the front of the bus to sit with Dean Stubbs, and chaos ensued as everyone quickly followed suit, attempting to squeeze past each other en route to their respective partners.

"It's like musical chairs, but with expletives for the soundtrack," Booth noted, and Brennan started to laugh, somewhat taken aback by the array of colourful curses that were flying around the encumbered bus.

"That was a very nice thing, what you just did for Jenny," she observed, gently touching his forearm to convey her approval, and he shrugged nonchalantly.

"I just don't want these morons giving the FBI a bad name, that's all. And besides, Jenny's just a kid trying to make the world a better place. She doesn't deserve all this crap."

"I wholeheartedly concur," Brennan stated, briefly dragging her eyes away from the melee unfolding in front of them to meet his intense gaze.

"Good," Booth said, tapping his partner gently on the thigh, "So no more comments about her not being qualified to do things, OK? She knows she's out of her depth already."

"But I didn't mean to upset her," Brennan objected, looking genuinely concerned.

"I know, Bones." Booth reached out to touch her knee, and they shared a brief smile before he turned his attention to Otis, who was making his way towards the back of the bus to sit besides Teresa. "Hey man," he said, and Agent Lewis shot a warm grin in their direction.

"Hey yourself. How're you two bearing up back here?"

"We're fine, thank you," Brennan said politely, smiling genially at the friendly Agent.

"Glad to hear it, Dr Brennan," Otis replied with a wink, sinking down besides Teresa, who promptly elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow, what the fuck was that for?" he yelled, and Booth sought out his partner's gaze, rolling his eyes skyward.

Brennan laughed, feeling much more at ease now that Alex Johnson had reluctantly moved to the front of the bus to sit with Bob, mumbling something about how she _'didn't want his fat ass to get wedged between the seats.'_

Once everyone was situated in their new positions, Jenny mustered the courage to address them all again. "OK, thanks for your support, everyone," she said, but this time her smile was focused solely on Booth and lacked its customary mega-wattage. "Now, I'm going to ask you to trade worksheets with your partners and discuss them between yourselves… in a reasonable manner," she hastened to add.

"Wait a minute, you never told us that our partners would get to see what we'd written," Dean objected, casting a panicked looked in Sergio's direction.

Booth cast his eyes worriedly over his worksheet, immediately honing in on one word in particular. 'Beautiful.' _Shit, _he thought, reaching for his pen, but Brennan snatched the paper out of his hands before he had the opportunity to substitute his distinctly personal observation for something more partner-like.

He opened his mouth to object, but Brennan thrust her own worksheet into his hands, and intrigue momentarily overrode his instinct for self-preservation. He scanned the paper eagerly, breaking into a slow smile.

_'Sensitive, caring, insightful, amusing, loyal, noble, strong, diligent, intelligent, determined, dependable, reassuring, humble, a good father, charming.'_

"Bones, I'm touched… I truly am," Booth murmured, only half-jokingly; placing his hand over his heart and feeling it skip a beat when he saw his partner's shocked expression.

"You think I'm beautiful, Booth?" Brennan whispered, and he swallowed prominently, desperately searching for a get out clause.

"Well, you think I'm charming," he countered lightly, and she slowly shook her head.

"But that's not the same. I wasn't making a comment about your personal appearance, I was merely trying to convey that you have a certain kind of… charisma."

"Oh," Booth said, in a spectacular display of eloquence. "Well… I just… um… I mean… yeah, I think you're beautiful, Bones. I have eyes… you know… that function," he stammered, nervously seeking out her gaze. "There were fourteen other words listed in that column," he reminded her, with something akin to desperation.

Brennan blushed, studying her hands. "Yes, I know, Booth. And I was very pleased with your assessment of my character," she added, almost shyly. "But why did you list 'gifted' and 'special' separately – aren't they synonymous?"

"Well… not really." Booth cleared his throat, playing with the buttons on his coat. "I meant that you were gifted in respect of your work and special… you know… as a person in general, regardless of the context."

Brennan's pink-tinged cheeks turned even redder, and she stared at her partner with her mouth slightly agape. "I… that's very nice, Booth. Thank you," she whispered, and Booth nodded, pulling the collar of his sweatshirt away from his neck because it was starting to feel too constrictive.

"You haven't read the second column yet," he reminded his partner amusedly, desperately trying to assuage the sudden awkwardness between them.

Booth lowered his gaze to gauge his partner's assessment of his less favourable traits, and after several moments, started to laugh out loud. _"Argumentative, obstinate, condescending, arrogant, unreasonable, over-protective alpha male, prone to conjecture and making unsubstantiated hypotheses, underestimates my proficiency when it comes to handling firearms, won't let me drive,"_ he read, highly amused that the initial part of Brennan's list was virtually a carbon copy of his own.

"Now that's just weird," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "We're supposed to be like chalk and cheese, Bones, but this makes us sound like two peas in a pod."

Brennan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand your analogies Booth. Why are you comparing us to food?"

Booth placed his worksheet on the seat between them, indicating for Brennan to do the same. "See?" he said, gesturing to their correlating answers. "For all our differences, we actually have a lot in common, too, Bones."

"But they're all negative traits," Brennan objected, torn between amusement and intrigue.

"Come on, you're the scientist, Bones. Don't two negatives make a positive?" he ventured, his eyes twinkling as he watched a sense of realisation dawn on his partner's attractive face.

"But… you can't apply a mathematical theory to interpersonal relations," Brennan said softly, although her tone lacked any real conviction.

"But don't you see, this is why we butt heads all the time, Bones," Booth reasoned persuasively, "Because we're both stubborn, and argumentative, and we won't give up until we've forced the other person to listen to our perspective."

"And because our initial standpoints are diametrically opposed, when we come to a consensus, we know we've found the right answer," Brennan concluded, and Booth grinned widely.

"Exactly," he said, starting to laugh. "Sweets would be so proud of us right now, Bones."

Brennan groaned, rolling her eyes, but she couldn't help but smile. "You know, that exercise wasn't as redundant as I'd anticipated," she admitted, obviously heedless to the fracas unfolding around her as the other partners traded insults and voiced their objections to the cruel jibes that littered their worksheets.

"Look at this one," Booth said, holding out another sheet of paper that was covered in speech bubbles, each of them containing a question. "_This exercise is designed to help you get to know your partner on a more personal level, perhaps even with the possibility of finding some common ground_," he read aloud, adopting a teacher's condescending tone. "_Take turns picking a question to ask your partner, and be sure to __**really listen**__ to their answers."_He grinned in amusement. "I guess Sergio's Ipod isn't going to get much playback during this one, then."

Brennan snorted. "They think that discussing our favourite colours is going to enhance our working relationship?" she whispered derisively, her eyes rapidly scanning the options available. "OK, Booth…" she ventured after a moment's rumination, "What's your favourite movie, and why?"

"I guess…" Booth looked lost in thought for a moment, and Brennan was captivated by the emotions playing across his handsome features. "I guess I would have to say, _'Saving Private Ryan.'_"

"I've never heard of it," Brennan admitted regretfully. She was struck by the way Booth's eyes suddenly seemed a little watery, and reached out to lightly brush his forearm. "What's it about?" she ventured softly.

"Well… it's directed by Stephen Spielberg… you know who Stephen Spielberg is, right, Bones?"

Brennan nodded enthusiastically. "Of course. I loved E.T. when I was a kid!" she exclaimed, and Booth's eyes widened to comical proportions, a large grin spreading across his features.

"Seriously, Bones? Because I would've thought that you were a little too rational for the whole 'alien from outer space' thing."

"Booth, I was approximately seven years old when the film was released," she reminded him, her tone laced with amused exasperation. "I was very advanced for my age, but I still had _some_ sense of imagination. I… I cried when E.T. said goodbye to Elliott," she whispered conspiratorially, and Booth's grin grew impossibly wider.

"I wish I could've seen what you were like as a kid, Bones," he confessed, his eyes sparkling with affection.

"Well… I still have a handful of pictures that survived my time in the system," Brennan said quietly, her expression suddenly vulnerable. "Maybe I could… maybe I could show them to you sometime?" she concluded, almost shyly.

Booth smiled at her warmly when she furtively sought out his gaze. "Yeah. I'd like that, Bones."

"So… anyway… you were going to tell me about _'Saving Private Ryan,'_" Brennan reminded him, and instantly regretted it when Booth's iridescent eyes promptly darkened.

"Yeah," he said, swallowing audibly. "It's… it's set during the Second World War and it centres around the story of six Rangers who are given the mission of finding a guy who's missing in action – Private Ryan," he clarified, and Brennan nodded attentively.

"Private Ryan has three other brothers who were all conscripted at the same time, but one of the Generals realises that all of them - bar Ryan himself - have been killed by enemy fire. He knows it's going to destroy their mother, so he wants Ryan brought back home ASAP to cushion the blow. Ryan ultimately survives, even though he refuses to leave his post, but…" Booth's voice cracked slightly, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down far more prominently in his throat, "most of the others don't make it. It's pretty brutal in places, you know? They really nailed the reality of what it's like to be in a combat zone," he admitted, his eyes shifting restlessly in conjunction with the memories that still haunted him. "I guess… I guess I can just relate to a lot of the stuff that they're going through," he concluded, bowing his head slightly.

"I'm sorry, Booth," Brennan murmured, reaching out to touch his forearm. "I didn't mean to dredge up bad memories for you."

"I know. It's OK," he reassured her, brushing her hand lightly and then promptly pulling back when he realised Jenny was staring at them contemplatively. "So I guess it's my turn now," he noted, hastily changing the subject. He studied his worksheet for a moment, and then offered Brennan a warm smile. "OK, Dr Brennan… what's your all-time favourite song - and why?" he probed, his tone mimicking that of an overly enthusiastic quizmaster.

Brennan tilted her head to the side thoughtfully, and then slowly began to break into a warm smile. "You should know," she said, regarding him intently.

"'Keep on Tryin'?" Booth hazarded a guess, and Brennan shook her head to refute his assumption. "OK then… something by Cat Power?"

"Third time lucky, Booth," Brennan said, quirking an eyebrow.

"You know I don't listen to that hip hop crap, Bones, and I can't think of anything else you would like… unless…" Something finally clicked, and Booth started to smile, too. "Hot Blooded?" he ventured hopefully, and Brennan ducked her head, nodding.

"Yes."

"But I thought that was just a guilty pleasure, Bones?" he teased, almost flirtatiously. Seeing his partner's genuine embarrassment, he decided to take pity on her, and whispered conspiratorially after a brief respite, "You know what? It's mine, too."

"Really?" Brennan asked, looking inordinately pleased.

"Absolutely," Booth assured her. "I really enjoyed that night, Bones… well, at least until your fridge made a valiant attempt to murder me," he deadpanned, offering his partner a wry grin. He studied her for a moment, inwardly debating with himself, and then decided to take a chance. "In fact, it was almost as much fun as seeing you belt out 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' that night at the Checker Box."

Brennan blanched, her eyes inadvertently settling on her partner's chest before she rapidly looked away.

"You know, I never got chance to tell you this Bones, but you really did sing it better than Cyndi Lauper. You were amazing up there; I couldn't take my eyes off you - none of us could," he enthused, silently willing her to meet his gaze.

"I know, Booth," she said quietly, her tone noticeably terse, "And that's why nobody noticed Pam Nunan's arrival. That's why nobody realised that she had a gun before it…" she inhaled sharply, "Before it was too late." She shook her head despairingly. "I hate that song," she concluded fiercely, her eyes welling with tears, "And I never should have let you convince me to get up there in the first place. It was stupid, exhibitionist behaviour, and it almost… it almost got you killed."

"And I would have died a happy man, Bones, because seeing you like that - despite everything that happened afterwards – it was one of the best moments of my life, OK? And one day, I'm going to drag you out to a karaoke bar, and I'm going to make you do it all over again - whether you like it or not - because I really want to finish hearing you sing that damn song, all right?"

His partner was completely silent, starting persistently out of the window, and Booth made a show of stretching as he moved closer towards her. Alex's seat had been vacated, so everyone was facing away from them, and he figured it was worth the risk to reach out and wipe away the tear that was streaking down his partner's cheek. She flinched slightly, and Booth's chest constricted when he detected her barely audible sniffle.

"What do you say we skip the rest of this exercise, Bones?" he whispered, and she nodded vehemently, unable to voice a response.

Booth sighed, shifting slightly to give his partner some space, and was shocked when Bones reached out to grasp his forearm in a vice-like grip, preventing him from moving more than a couple of feet away. Glancing around furtively at the other passengers, he gently prised Bones' fingers away from his arm, opting to clasp her hand instead. Ensuring there was a suitable gap between them, he threw his coat over their linked appendages so his feeble attempt at comfort wouldn't elicit any raised eyebrows, and then he tenderly squeezed Bones' clammy hand, tracing the bumps of her knuckles with his thumb. Several moments later, Brennan threaded her fingers through his own, lightly squeezing back.


	3. Chapter 3

"God, that woman grates on my nerves," Alex Johnson griped angrily, carefully reapplying her lip-gloss in the restroom's expansive mirror. "She's such a superior bitch. Did you guys hear some of the stuff she was saying to that Guide? _'Are you qualified to administer psychometric tests?'_" she mimicked in a haughty tone, rolling her kohl-rimmed eyes. "I mean, who the fuck does she think she is?" she demanded, shaking her head reproachfully. "And I couldn't believe that she just stood up and announced to everyone that her father was a murderer. Is she completely oblivious to the fact that she's sitting with a bunch of Feds?"

Teresa snorted, leaning her lofty frame against the row of weathered sinks. "I think she's completely oblivious in general. I mean, Booth's a pretty funny guy, right? But every time he cracks a joke, it goes completely over her head. He has to explain everything to her like she's a little kid or something. It's painful to watch."

"Well, all I can say is that he must have the patience of a Saint, because there's no way in hell that I could put up with her. I never thought I'd say this, but Bob actually looks appealing in comparison."

Sandra frowned, looking thoughtful. "I thought Dr Brennan's old man ducked the murder charges?"

"Yeah - on a technicality. She probably fixed the evidence or something." Alex sighed, daubing a liberal amount of concealer over an invisible imperfection. "I don't know how Booth can stand dragging her around with him like he does. It's obvious he does most of the legwork, and it pisses me off that she gets so much credit for it." She studied her reflection attentively, admiring her handiwork with an appreciative smile. "I mean, OK, so she does her freaky bone thing and identifies the victim, but Booth's the one who has to do all of the investigative work. He deserves so much better than that."

"Oh really? And what do you have in mind, Alex? Because I think I can make an educated guess," Sandra said, somewhat sarcastically.

"Yeah, I'm getting the distinct impression that you think Booth should be partnered with someone more like… oh, I don't know… _you_, for example?" Teresa teased, jostling her friend lightly with her elbow.

Alex started to laugh. "Well, OK, yeah, I'm not gonna deny it… I'd be happy to teach Booth a thing or two and… you know… show him what it's like to have a partner who pulls her weight."

Teresa shook her head amusedly. "Yeah, all the way into the bedroom," she deadpanned, her smile gradually fading into a look of regret. "I hate to say it, Al, but I'm pretty sure that you're chasing after a lost cause there. Don't get me wrong, I think Booth's selling himself short, too, but that doesn't change the fact that he is head over heels in love with the woman."

"You think?" Sandra asked, sending a thoughtful look in her fellow Agent's direction.

"Oh God, yeah!" Teresa exclaimed. "You guys should have stuck around earlier, because you missed one hell of a show. I mean, Otis was ranting in my ear for the most part, but from what I could hear, it was like some corny romance flick back there. You won't believe what Booth put for one of her good points…" she taunted, quirking an eyebrow in Alex's direction.

"What?" Alex demanded, not making any effort to conceal her curiosity.

"That she was 'beautiful,'" Teresa revealed, with an air of triumph.

"Oh my God, seriously?" Alex looked immensely troubled by this particular piece of information. "So you think they're screwing or something?" she demanded after a moment's respite, her eyes gleaming with an indecipherable emotion.

Teresa shrugged. "I… I don't know. I don't _think_ so, judging by her reaction. She was doing the whole blushing bride routine." Seeing her friend's puzzled expression, she affected a look of coy surprise, placing a hand over her heart. "_'What me? Really?'_" she mimicked, her alto voice an octave higher than usual.

"So you think that she's into him, too?" Alex probed, quirking an eyebrow. "I would've thought that she'd go for someone a little more high-brow; you know, some bearded professor with ten doctorates or something."

Sandra shrugged, drying her hands on a nearby towel. "Apparently not."

"Oh come on, Alex, you need to wake up and smell the coffee," Teresa said exasperatedly, "Because I'm telling you now, the way they look at each other sometimes… well, it's like watching a warped version of 'Romeo and Juliet' or something."

"Yeah, warped being the operative word," Alex retorted, with a sarcastic snort. "I mean, she's elbow deep in rotting corpses most of the time. Not exactly a turn on, is it? Booth's got to be a little sick in the head if he wants to tap that. I get the creeps just thinking about where her hands might have been."

"Come on, Alex, you have to admit that she's stunning. I certainly wouldn't mind looking like her, that much is for sure," Sandra conceded, her lips curving into a rueful smile.

"Yeah, well, you would say that," Alex retorted, oblivious to how cruel her remark had sounded.

"Alex, don't be such a fucking bitch," Teresa admonished, shooting an apologetic look in Sandra's direction.

Alex obligingly cultivated a contrite expression. "Sorry, Sandy, I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"Yeah, I know, you're just bitter because you're not the Belle of the Ball anymore," Sandra teased, but there was a noticeable edge to her tone.

"What, you seriously think that robotic bitch is prettier than I am?" Alex demanded, looking genuinely wounded, and Teresa punched her lightly on the arm.

"What are you, like sixteen?" she chided, rolling her eyes indulgently.

"Way to avoid answering the question, Teresa," Alex retorted, looking petulant for a moment, but then she gradually broke into a grin. "It doesn't matter, anyway, because she's never going to be able to keep up with us on this course, right? She might like to think that she can hold her own, but we all know that she's had a free ride so far. I bet she doesn't even know the basics." She sighed, shaking her head. "God, I would give anything to see her dragged through the training program at Quantico, she wouldn't know what hit her. I mean, can you even imagine her holding a gun?"

"Oh my God, Alex, I never told you this, but the Bureau won't let her have one!" Teresa exclaimed, starting to laugh. "Booth denied her application himself, after she went native and decided to confront a suspect on her own - _without a warrant_. She shot him in the leg after he'd just poured a bucketful of gasoline all over the floor, without giving him a warning or anything. _And_ she'd been drinking." She saw her friend's disbelieving expression, and nodded vehemently. "I'm serious, Alex. She was lucky that she didn't get blown to smithereens and take all of the evidence with her in the process. Thank God Booth showed up to save her sorry ass."

Alex's hand flew to her mouth, and she shook her head in palpable disgust, her lips curling into a contemptuous sneer. "And Cullen still let her go out into the field after that? I mean, can you even believe the double standards?" She banged her fist against the rim of the sink in frustration. "I sure as hell know that if one of us had made a monumental fuck-up like that, we'd be out of a job, no questions asked."

"I know!" Teresa exclaimed, evidently sharing her outrage. "We all lost a lot of respect for Cullen after he decided to keep her on board." She shook her head despairingly. "I mean, he must've been out of his mind. Booth has taken so many hits for that woman, I swear, he's more like her personal friggin' bodyguard than her partner."

"Oh come on, Teresa, she's saved his ass on more than one occasion, too," Sandra reminded her pointedly. "I'm sorry, but there's just no way they'd be topping the departmental statistics if they didn't make a good team. She's obviously doing something right," she concluded, with an expression that was bordering on defiance.

"Oh yeah? Then how come Sweets sent them here, then?" Alex countered in an argumentative tone, folding her arms and staring at Sandra intently.

The older woman showed no signs of backing down. "Because Cullen said that attendance was compulsory for _all_ of Dr Sweets' patients, that's why. He obviously assumes that if they're still in therapy, then they must have a dysfunctional relationship, even though anyone with two brain cells to rub together can see that they're well-matched. But we wouldn't want Dr Brennan to get preferential treatment now, would we?" she concluded, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Jesus Sandy, get off your high horse, would you?" Alex said, looking slightly taken aback by her friend's censure. "I don't give a damn why they're here, I'm just glad that Booth's finally got an opportunity to realise that the good Doctor is a complete liability outside of the lab." She smiled maliciously. "And, look, I know we're gonna be doing some pretty physical stuff, but I'm sure as hell not going to let Bob drag me down. Booth's about to realise the difference between a wannabe and the real deal."

"If you say so," Sandra said indifferently, heaving a sigh. "Anyway, I'm friggin' starving. Can we please stop the bitching and go grab some lunch?"

The stout Agent promptly stalked out of the restroom, and Alex glanced at Teresa, her cobalt eyes sparkling with spite. "So Sandy wants to eat?" she muttered, with a callous snort. "Now there's a surprise."

Teresa shook her head in a mixture of reproach and amusement. "Come on, let's get out of here." She held the door open for Alex, allowing it to slam shut behind her, and their footsteps quickly faded into the ruckus beyond the restroom door.

The persecution was finally over, and Brennan fumbled ineffectually with the dilapidated lock on her cubicle door, her hands shaking violently. Stumbling towards the mirror, she gripped the sink until her knuckles turned white, inwardly willing the trembling to subside. Curiosity had initially kept her rooted in place; but she couldn't fathom why she had allowed the unwarranted attack on her character to continue. Alex and Teresa's unsubstantiated conjecture had astounded her, so why hadn't she voiced her objections? She wasn't sixteen years old anymore; she had the capacity to defend herself, and yet she had cowered in that cubicle as though assertiveness was a foreign concept to her. Why? Those women didn't even know her; their opinion shouldn't have any bearing on her existence, and yet hearing them heartlessly questioning her capabilities had shaken her to the core. Perhaps it was because her suspicions had been confirmed. Alex and Teresa clearly regarded her as a liability, a burden that Booth felt compelled to shoulder. At least Sandra had spoken in her favour, but her comments clearly had no influence on the female Agents' embittered perspectives.

Is that how her partner's other colleagues perceived her, too? As a worthless, incompetent fool? Brennan blanched at the prospect, her jaw setting in anger. She gazed at her reflection fixedly, until the emotion welling in her eyes was forced to subside, and silently vowed to prove them wrong, just like their host of censorious predecessors. Several of her foster parents had told her that she would never amount to anything, but her indubitable success had forced them to acknowledge their erroneous assumptions. Her high school Science teachers had always resented her ability to correct their mistakes, but when Mr Harris had flatly informed her that she 'didn't have a hope in hell' of winning a prestigious scholarship to Northwestern University, she'd taken great pleasure in waving the letter of acceptance in his face. She was a fighter, and two hateful women weren't going to change that fact.

Brennan took several calming breaths until her heart regained its natural rhythm and, satisfied that her nonchalant expression wasn't betraying her inner turmoil, she washed and dried her hands, hastily exiting the restroom. Her eyes immediately settled on Booth, who was stood outside of a small convenience outlet, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for her to join him. She couldn't even bring herself to entertain the notion that what Teresa had said was true - even if she desperately wanted to believe it. Surely, if Booth had romantic feelings towards her, he would have acted on them by now?

Her partner seemed to sense the intensity of her gaze and promptly turned around to appraise her as she walked determinedly towards him. She bit her lip when she considered that she had been missing for over fifteen minutes and, even from this distance, Brennan could see Booth rolling his eyes in exasperation. Still, as she bathed in the warmth of his gaze and saw the welcoming smile that was tugging at his lips, the tension that was coursing through her seemed to subside a little. When Booth was around, it was so much easier to forget that her classmates - who had told her repeatedly that she was a freak who would never belong to the society that she studied so avidly in her Anthropology classes - had been right.

* * *

"Bones, wake up," Booth whispered, gently shaking his partner's shoulder.

The Anthropologist had been quiet ever since they stopped for lunch and, despite his heartfelt cajoling, Bones had barely touched her plate of vegetarian pasta. Booth was inwardly afraid that their earlier conversation had affected her more than he'd anticipated, but when he expressed his concern, Bones had fobbed him off with an excuse about the travelling making her groggy. Booth had hoped that she would open up to him once they were back on the bus, but Jenny had neglected to foist any more activities onto the unreceptive Agents, and most of them had opted to take a siesta for the remainder of the journey. Bones, too, had closed her eyes and rested her head against the window, making it clear that she wasn't in the mood for conversation.

Booth had quickly observed the awkward position of his partner's neck and, after a considerable amount of persuasion, had eventually convinced her to lie across the length of their seats, using his coat as a makeshift pillow. Unfortunately, that meant Bones' head was resting inches away from his lap, and it had taken all of his self-restraint not to reach out and smooth back her glossy auburn hair. His partner's sleep was fitful, and Bones' features never quite seemed to relax into an expression of repose. Her brow was furrowed slightly, and she had immediately jerked awake when he wrapped his arm firmly around her waist, realising that she was liable to roll off the seat when their driver negotiated a particularly sharp corner. One sheepish smile and a stammered explanation later, Bones had promptly dozed back off again.

Now, two bleary azure eyes were blinking up at him confusedly, and he couldn't resist breaking into a tender smile when he saw that one of his buttons had left a large imprint on his partner's cheek.

"It looks like the road's going to get a little bumpy soon," he said, just as their driver pulled onto a dirt track that was stippled with uneven terrain. "I don't want that genius brain of yours getting rattled around."

Brennan rolled her eyes, easing herself into a sitting position and regarding the scenery thoughtfully. They were headed towards a patch of dense forest, and the bus darkened considerably as the towering trees formed an impenetrable canopy, blocking out the muted grey sky.

"We're in Virginia," Booth informed her. "In Shenandoah Valley, I think." He wasn't about to confess that he had been more interested in studying his partner's countenance than the road signs that they had been whizzing past.

"It looks beautiful," Brennan observed, watching in amusement as a startled deer skittered away from its vantage point and into the undergrowth.

"See, it's just like I said, Bones. A free holiday," Booth teased, offering her a warm grin, which she fleetingly returned.

He couldn't help but notice that the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, though, and a frown gradually worked its way across his features. "Bones, what's wrong?" he asked softly, and she glanced at him sharply.

"I'm fine, Booth. I just haven't woken up properly, yet, that's all."

"Are you sure? Because if what I said earlier - "

"Booth… please… I'm _fine_," Brennan reiterated, regarding him with something akin to exasperation. He stared at her intently for a moment, and then nodded, heaving a heartfelt sigh.

"OK, if anyone's still sleeping, then you need to wake up!" Jenny suddenly hollered, clapping her hands loudly. The sharp, staccato sound reverberated around the bus, and five sets of eyes promptly flew open, instantly narrowing into venomous glares.

"We're almost at our drop-off point," Jenny informed them excitedly, "And I want you to know that we don't believe in breaking people in easily around here." She smiled ruefully when her words were greeted with a deafening groan. "Yeah, that's never been a popular policy," she conceded wryly. "Now, as soon as we arrive, I'm going to hand out some maps. They'll provide you with comprehensive directions to our camp, and they're pretty much idiot-proof, so I promise you won't get lost in the wilderness somewhere."

"Hey, what are you trying to say?" Booth said lightly, offering her a teasing grin. "We're not all idiots, you know?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," Jenny hastened to reassure him, her cheeks colouring slightly under his amused appraisal. She cleared her throat. "It's a five mile hike, which means you should have just enough time to get to camp and pitch your tents before it gets dark."

"Yeah, if we don't die of hypothermia first," Alex whined angrily. "I don't know if you've noticed, but it's fucking freezing out there. Or does your sunny disposition warm you from the inside out?"

Jenny, after spending ten minutes sobbing to her mother over the phone at lunchtime, had been given some good advice. Namely, to develop a backbone. "The information pack clearly stipulated that you should dress in deference to the cold weather, Agent Johnson. It's not my problem if you didn't heed its advice," she noted, trying to keep her tone even as she looked pointedly at Alex's lightweight jacket.

An expression of unbridled outrage crossed Alex's features, and for one horrifying moment, she looked poised to strike, but Sandra tossed a thick fleece in her direction, circumventing the attack. "Just put that on Al, and shut up."

Jenny smiled gratefully. "Now, Deputy-Director Cullen has assured me that you're all physically capable of completing the hike, and to spur you on, we're going to create a bit of healthy competition. The partners that cross the finish line first will get a little something as a reward but - because I know most of you aren't going to make the effort to walk together - there is, I'm afraid… a little catch," Jenny warned them, fumbling around in her backpack and emerging with several pairs of handcuffs.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Sergio Lorenzo muttered darkly, folding his arms defiantly.

"I'm afraid not," Jenny countered, with an apologetic shrug. "And I'm going to be keeping the keys, so… maybe you should consider being a little nicer to me," she concluded, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

Booth laughed at the horror-struck expressions on his colleagues' faces, but when he turned to gauge his partner's reaction to the task, he was surprised to see her scrutinising everyone with the kind of meticulous attention she usually only reserved for work. "What's the squinty look for, Bones? Don't tell me you're sizing up the competition?"

To his surprise, his partner nodded. "Yes, that's precisely what I'm doing, Booth. It's hard to determine the extent of someone's physical fitness when their physique is hidden beneath so many layers of clothing, but Sergio and Dean appear to be in good health and they have a distinct advantage in terms of stride, too. They're much taller than me," she clarified, looking pensive. "Teresa and Otis could make formidable opponents, as well, but depending on their starting pace and their ability to co-operate with each other, I think we have a reasonable chance of success."

"Jeez, Bones, competitive much?" Booth teased, looking faintly bewildered.

Brennan looked distinctly unimpressed. "Would you please put on your hiking boots, Booth? We can't waste any time if we want to get a head start."

His partner's tone was noticeably terse, and Booth glanced at her in concern. "Bones, are you sure you're OK? Because you're not usually this… gung-ho… about things."

Bones didn't reply - she simply glared at him, seizing his bulky backpack from the floor and effortlessly tossing it in his direction. Booth held up his hands in surrender, wincing when the pack landed heavily on his lap.

"OK, OK, I get it. You're fine," he muttered, fumbling through the contents of his rucksack until he found his hiking boots.

A few moments later, the bus ground to an abrupt halt, and all of the passengers pitched forwards, peering at their picturesque surroundings with avid interest. A crystal-clear lake was visible through the thick foliage, its surface rippling turbulently in deference to the wind. Now the engine was no longer running, they could hear the potent breeze whistling through the trees' mostly barren branches, causing them to sway slightly in submission. There was, however, plenty of Evergreen vegetation, and the rustling of leaves was omnipresent. Accustomed to the dull greys and synthetic neon of city life, they were all entranced by the kaleidoscope of autumnal colours surrounding them. Everyone, that is, except Brennan.

"Come on, Booth, let's go," she urged, rapidly donning her winter woollies and pushing him forwards.

"Bones, it's not like we're being called to a crime scene. Nobody's going to contaminate the campsite before you get there," he teased, but his remark failed to elicit a smile.

"I want to stretch my legs; they're starting to cramp," Brennan lied smoothly, immediately feeling guilty when a look of concern crossed her partner's features.

"You should have told me," he admonished, ushering her towards the front of the bus just as the driver cranked open the doors.

The rush of frigid air was a shock to the system, and they both sucked in a breath as they adjusted to the cold, generating a fine mist of condensation when they exhaled. Without the looming skyscrapers and tower blocks to shelter them from the brisk wind, the crisp temperature seemed to have plummeted even further, and Booth found himself wondering about the likelihood of a ground frost tonight. Still, at least it wasn't raining, and he knew they would warm up considerably once they started moving.

Once all of the passengers had congregated outside, Jenny turned to face them. "OK everyone, we're on a public trail here and you'll be pleased to know that there's a restroom up ahead." She gestured to a brick building that was barely visible through the undergrowth. "It's a little primitive, but it serves its purpose, and I would strongly advise that you make use of it before I cuff you together… otherwise things could get a little… awkward."

She grinned at the cringing Agents, who promptly scattered in the direction of the weather-beaten facility.

"Don't be long, Booth," Brennan instructed him imperiously, and Booth snorted disbelievingly in response.

"Did I complain when you kept me waiting earlier?" he countered, quirking an eyebrow pointedly.

"You said you would've starved to death if I'd taken much longer," she reminded him absently, and he was struck by the faraway look in her eyes.

Despite being wary of pushing the issue, Booth was determined to get to the root of his partner's melancholy disposition, but the question died on his lips when a piercing shriek sounded from within the confines of the restroom.

They ran towards the bleak brick building in alarm, parting down the middle when a red-faced Alex came hurtling towards them, muttering something about her encounter with a spider _'that must've been on fucking steroids.'_

"That's a logical impossibility," Brennan called after her retreating form, and Booth was surprised to hear her emit a snort of genuine laughter. He broke into a wide grin, feeling immeasurably pleased when Brennan readily smiled back. _Now, that's more like it, _he inwardly thought, touching his partner lightly on the arm before he made his way towards the restroom.

Five minutes later, everyone had reassembled outside of the stationary bus, stooping slightly under the weight of their respective backpacks. Jenny began distributing the maps, smiling quizzically at Mark Simmons when he laid a hand on her forearm.

"You know I said we should grab a drink together when all of this is over?" Mark ventured, and Jenny nodded enthusiastically. "Well, I take it back," he concluded, snatching the map out of her hands.

Jenny laughed nervously, and Sandra couldn't contain her sardonic smile.

"I'm sure she's going to cry herself to sleep tonight, Mark," she muttered sarcastically, and her partner whirled around to face her.

"Was I talking to you?"

They glared at each other defiantly, until Jenny intervened, waving a pair of handcuffs in their general direction. "Come on guys, this isn't going to be a very pleasant experience for you if you're at loggerheads already. Just try and be nice to each other, OK?"

Sandra laughed, and then to everyone's amusement, suddenly burst into song. _"I'd like to build the world a home and furnish it with love. Grow apple trees and honey bees, and snow white turtle doves,"_ she crooned sweetly, affecting a saccharine expression that bore an uncanny resemblance to Jenny's. Her choice of lyrics made everyone laugh uproariously, and their guffaws intensified when Sandra patted their Guide's forearm and enthused, "Come on Jenny, join in!"

Jenny blushed, and Mark shook his head despairingly. "You're a fucking nutter," he informed his partner wryly, but he, too, was smiling.

Seeing them sharing a rare moment of rapport – even if it was at her own expense - made Jenny beam from ear to ear, and she deftly unfastened the handcuffs. "Come on guys, put your wrists in," she urged, and they begrudgingly obliged. "That's not too tight, is it?" she inquired, tugging lightly on the stainless steel, and Sandra shook her head, heaving a resentful sigh.

Five minutes later, the redhead had managed to cajole most of the remaining Agents into being trussed together, but Alex was purposefully hanging back, keen to avoid the inevitable humiliation.

"Jenny, it can't be too long since Mommy was reading you bedtime stories," she said to the petite Guide, her tone dripping with scorn. "You remember Aesop's fables, right? Well this is the equivalent of the hare and the tortoise being tied together, OK?" She gestured to Bob's sagging midriff and then to her own toned physique, ignoring her partner's murderous expression.

"But in the story itself, the tortoise won the race because the hare was too complacent about its capabilities," Jenny countered, trying not to smile.

Bob sniggered, as did everyone else in their direct vicinity.

"Yeah, well, whatever," Alex countered petulantly, folding her arms. "There is no way I'm being cuffed to that lump of lard. We'll be out here all night."

"Then you'd better quit whinging and get your ass in gear, Johnson, because you're holding everyone else up," Otis hollered, staring at her intently until she finally backed down, allowing Jenny to cuff her to Bob and redefining the notion of stink eye in the process.

"OK everyone, there are a couple of checkpoints along the track and some of my colleagues will be waiting there with refreshments if you need them," Jenny assured them, breaking into a wide smile. "So… off you go!"

Booth yelped when Brennan tugged mercilessly on their restraints, virtually dragging him towards the start of the trail. "Jeez, Bones, I'd like to get out of this with my arm intact, if you don't mind," he said wryly, trotting after her and making a valiant effort to match her hurried pace.

Brennan was a swift walker; her long legs could tackle any terrain with ease and she had been known to leave men who were several inches taller than her trailing in her wake. Even Booth struggled to keep pace with her sometimes, and had at one point christened her Speedy Gonzales, before realising that the reference was totally lost on her. Of course, it hadn't helped that she'd laughed at him profusely when he'd started yelling "¡Ándale! ¡Ándale! ¡Arriba! ¡Arriba!" at her, completely unaware of the fact that he was effectively encouraging her to hurry up and walk even faster. Booth thought she had cultivated her hasty pace to ensure that she was always the first to arrive at a crime scene, before anyone could compromise the integrity of her remains. Brennan simply liked to think that she was a woman of purpose; ambling was for those who lacked direction.

Right now, her purpose was clear. She wanted to win this race, and she wasn't about to let her cumbersome backpack, the freezing weather, or her partner's grumbling hinder her progress.

"Bones, am I missing something here? Are we being chased by the four horsemen of the Apocalypse or something?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Booth," she ground out, clearly short of breath. She turned around, noticing that Otis and Teresa were rapidly gaining ground, and forced her legs to work a little harder. She could feel the lactic acid building up in her muscles already, but she refused to slow down in deference to the steep incline and focussed on controlling her breathing instead.

"Bones, I really think you're taking this a little too seriously," Booth wheezed, sucking in a ragged breath. "When Jenny said that the winning team would get a reward, I don't think she meant a Ferrari or anything."

"Booth, talking wastes energy," Brennan informed him sharply, refusing to entertain his attempts at humour.

"Yeah, well if you hadn't skipped lunch, you'd probably have a hell of a lot more energy to begin with, and you might be less grouchy, too."

"I'm not grouchy, Booth, I'm just focussed on the task at hand. That was supposed to be one of my good points, remember?" Brennan countered, in a rare display of sarcasm.

"Fine," he spat out, and she regarded him petulantly.

"Fine."

They were silent for several minutes, the cacophony of their huffing and puffing sporadically punctuating the air, until the sounds were abruptly swallowed by the bitterly cold wind.

"Booth, the handcuffs are starting to chafe. Hold my hand," Brennan suddenly demanded, and Booth stared at her in shock.

"What?"

"Your arms are much longer than mine, and we're both prone to swinging them when we walk, which creates a disparate momentum. The friction is causing my wrists to chafe. If you hold my hand… like this," she bent her elbow, encouraging her partner to do the same, "Then it'll solve the problem."

Booth grinned, obligingly clasping his partner's hand securely in his own. Science often eluded him, but he was willing to concede that sometimes, it was a wonderful thing. "You know, we're doing a lot of hand-holding lately, Bones. Does that mean we're going steady?" he teased, and his partner regarded him with a look of puzzled exasperation.

"I don't know what that means."

"Never mind, Bones." Like he'd ever have the nerve to elaborate.

Finally, they reached the top of the hill, and Booth gasped when he got his first glimpse of the panoramic view surrounding them. "Wow," he whispered, forcing Brennan to a standstill when he stopped to study the mountain range rising majestically in the distance. A river was raging beneath them, and Booth watched the water cascading over the precipice of a nickpoint in the rock, forming a breathtakingly beautiful waterfall.

"Booth, come on," Brennan urged, demonstrating just how strong she really was by forcibly wrenching him away from his vantage point.

"Bones, would you just slow down for one minute and take a look around? It's amazing out here." When his partner continued to tug persistently at his hand, Booth decided that a display of his own strength was in order and yanked her towards him abruptly. "OK, what the hell is wrong with you, Bones?" he demanded, his anger more than apparent. "You're cooped up inside that lab all day, surrounded by high tech equipment, and you can't even take a minute to appreciate nature? Hell, it's not like we get to do something like this everyday. It's got to beat staring at rotting corpses, right?"

His partner's hand fell away from his own, hanging limply by her side, and she gazed despondently into the distance, refusing to meet his gaze.

It didn't take long for Booth to swallow his anger, and he regarded Bones' defeated posture with concern. "Temperance, what's wrong?" he asked softly, making the most of their enforced proximity by forcing her to face him.

She was silent for several moments, and Booth sighed aggrievedly, perturbed that his partner was still intent on evading the question.

"They think I'm incompetent."

The words were almost inaudible, obscured by the wind, but Booth heard them regardless. He brought his free hand upwards, cupping his partner's chin and tilting her bowed head towards him. "Who?" he demanded, his eyes glinting with anger.

Brennan sucked in a shuddering breath. "I heard them… in the restroom earlier… they said that I was a liability… that I belonged inside the lab. They said that Cullen makes allowances for me… that if I'd been a real Agent, I would've been fired after our first case…" Brennan's eyes welled with tears, but she fought them back resiliently. "They said that you… that you deserve better… that having me tagging along all the time must be an inconvenience for you. They think that you're more like my personal bodyguard than my partner," she concluded angrily, her voice wavering with barely repressed emotion.

Booth's blood was boiling, but he willed his tone to remain light. "And you wanted to prove them wrong?" he ventured quietly, and Brennan nodded resignedly, ducking her head.

"Bones, look at me," Booth pleaded, seeking out her gaze, and his anger only intensified when he saw the poorly-disguised pain lurking in his partner's shimmering azure eyes. "I wouldn't trade you for anyone," he reassured her, tenderly grazing the length of her cheek with his thumb. "We work as a team, you know that as well as I do, and there's no 'tagging along' involved, OK? Hell, I'm the one who struggles to keep up with _you_ most of the time."

Brennan attempted a smile, her expression brightening slightly. "So you don't think that… that I'm a burden?" she ventured, biting her lip, and Booth shook his head vehemently.

"God, no, Bones. You are most definitely an asset." He offered his partner a teasing grin, "I mean, OK, sometimes you're more of the 'ass' than the 'et,' -" he laughed when Bones punched him lightly on the arm, "But you proved your worth from the outset; don't doubt that for a second. Cullen doesn't need to make allowances for you, Bones - he knows he's fucking lucky to have you, and Alex and her cronies… they're just jealous, that's all." _And I'm going to tear them apart when I get my hands on them, _he inwardly added.

Brennan smiled, and then impulsively wrapped her free arm around her partner's waist in a fleeting hug, which was made even more awkward by the presence of his backpack. "Thank you, Booth," she whispered, turning around to admire the stunning landscape alongside her partner. Their shoulders brushed lightly, and she drew in a cleansing breath, finally taking the time to enjoy the moment and acknowledging that there was no one else who she would rather spend it with.

"You know, if Teresa and Otis stopped for refreshments, we could probably catch them up if we jogged for while," Booth suggested conversationally, and Brennan met his mischievous gaze with a hopeful smile.

"Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly, her brow furrowing with concern. "Because it would put a lot of strain on your back, Booth."

"Well… you can fix it, right?" he countered, grinning slyly. "Come on Bones, I know you're still itching to show them what you're made of. We left Alex in our dust a while back, but we've still got time to kick Teresa's sorry ass. I mean, no offence to Otis or anything." He turned towards her. "Here, grab my water bottle and take a swig, and then we'll get going."

Brennan obliged, downing a conservative amount of the liquid before handing the bottle to Booth, who tried desperately hard not to show how affected he was at the prospect of putting his mouth where his partner's had just been.

"Ready?" he asked, and she nodded, taking his hand with a smile that was almost as dazzling as the scenery surrounding them.

They broke into a brisk jog, hurtling down the hill until their legs threatened to give way beneath them, and hearing his partner's peals of uninhibited laughter, Booth broke into a colossal grin. It was the happiest he had been in a while; the trials and tribulations of everyday life faded into obscurity in the face of this exhilarating sense of freedom and, with Bones' delicate hand clasped firmly in his own and her beaming smile warming him from the inside out, it was all-too-easy to imagine that they were just an ordinary couple taking a winter walk… well, with the exception of the handcuffs.

They passed the first refreshment point without stopping and, after hiking for another mile, Booth glanced at the map and deduced that they were only about 1,700 yards away from camp. Unfortunately, they still hadn't encountered Otis and Teresa.

Two hundred metres later, Brennan nudged him in the ribs, pointing up ahead to the second refreshment point, where Otis was chatting animatedly with a grinning Guide, who was bundled up excessively to ward off the cold. Teresa was hanging back as far as her restraints would allow her to, looking desperately bored.

Booth ground to a halt, motioning for Brennan to be quiet, and then handed her the dwindling bottle of water. "How're you bearing up, GI Jane?" he teased, inwardly awed by his partner's stamina. Bones' lean physique was a testimony to her physical fitness, and Booth knew she looked after herself with karate classes and occasional trips to the gym, but he had never expected his partner to demonstrate this level of tenacity. Her pack was as heavy as his, and she hadn't whinged once, although he'd noticed her making subtle adjustments on a more frequent basis as the hike wore on.

"I'm fine," Brennan assured him softly, placing the water bottle back in the side panel of his rucksack. "It's actually quite invigorating, although – " Brennan trailed off abruptly as the sound of footfalls became audible behind them, and they both tried to whirl around simultaneously, the handcuffs pulling painfully at their limbs in the process. Sergio and Dean were only about a hundred metres behind them, and rapidly gaining ground.

"Shit," Booth said, and they promptly broke into a jog, managing to evade Teresa's detection for another fifty yards until she began urgently tugging on Otis' arm. "What do you say, Bones? Shall we go for a sprint finish?"

Brennan nodded determinedly, and they drastically increased their pace, running flat out until they were on the verge of overtaking the shocked Agents, who had been ambling ahead at a brisk, but comfortable pace.

"Come on Teresa, is that all you've got?" Booth hollered in the brunette's direction, seeing her visibly struggling with the weight of her pack as they hurtled past her. Otis shook his head despairingly, forced to break into a run when Teresa raced after Brennan like a bat out of hell.

"We're nearly there, Bones," Booth panted out through laboured breaths, aware that the other Agents were rapidly closing in on them. Otis had been the star of his high school track team, and Teresa was making a valiant effort to match his talent, her long legs eating up the space between them.

"Come on, Bones, we can do this," Booth muttered, using the last of his energy reserves to surge forward and propel his flagging partner alongside him.

"Booth…" Brennan gasped, holding on to her partner's hand for dear life, even though her burning, leaden legs felt like they were going to fold beneath her as they were forced to attain an unnatural velocity. It was sheer will alone that kept her from falling flat on her face, and she and Booth charged into the clearing where their camp was based seconds before Otis and Teresa, collapsing on top of each other in an undignified heap.

Booth grunted when his partner's weight impacted solidly with his heaving chest, but Brennan was so exhausted that she couldn't muster the energy required to roll away. Thankfully, Booth's backpack cushioned the blow, and they stared at each other for a moment, their faces inches apart as they fought to regain their breath. Booth placed an impulsive, victorious kiss on his partner's forehead, and then they started to wheeze with laughter, the vibrations rippling through their melded physiques and making them acutely aware of each other's proximity.

Otis' rich, booming guffaws echoed throughout the clearing, and he dragged a brooding Teresa towards the felled duo, offering his free hand to Brennan and hauling her effortlessly to her feet. Feeling the ensuing tug on his wrist, Booth was forced to quickly follow suit.

"That was one hell of a performance you put in back there, Dr Brennan," Otis enthused, clapping her lightly on the shoulder, and he couldn't help but observe how the Anthropologist's beaming smile completely transformed her countenance.

"Thank you," Brennan said with graceful aplomb, and Booth shot his fellow Agent a broad grin.

"You didn't do too badly yourself, my friend."

"Yeah, there's life in the old dog yet," Otis conceded with an easy grin. "It's just a pity that some of us are such sore losers," he muttered, tugging on his restraints in a bid to draw Teresa out of her funk. He rolled his eyes when she still refused to offer her congratulations, and turned to the former Ranger with a knowing smirk. "That's quite some partner you've got there, Agent Booth," he said pointedly, and Booth met his gaze warmly.

"Yeah," Booth readily agreed, offering Brennan a soft smile before levelling a cold stare in Teresa's direction. "She's the best."


	4. Chapter 4

An hour later, everyone had made it back to camp in one piece, but not necessarily unscathed. After being hastily released from his confines by a horrified Jenny, a flagging, but furious Bob had promptly been rushed off to have his raw wrist bathed and bandaged, muttering something about being eligible for a worker's comp claim after Alex had forcibly dragged him the considerable distance to camp. The blonde's callous determination hadn't stopped them from arriving thirty-five minutes after Sandra and Mark, who had maintained a stoic silence since their arrival, clearly dissatisfied with their lowly position in the group's pecking order – especially after discovering that their Guides had implemented a points system to keep track of the partners' respective successes and failures. Brennan and Booth were currently topping the leader board with five points.

Now, Jenny and her two male associates were bustling around the camp, handing out hot coffee and biscuits in an effort to rejuvenate the Agents' waning spirits, and offering pointers to everyone as they set about erecting their sleeping quarters. Most of the group had brought their own individual tents, but some of the Agents had opted to share one between them to lighten the load. Otis and Dean were already offloading their backpacks into their expertly assembled ridge tent, but Alex and Teresa – who were apparently incapable of differentiating between a ground sheet and a flysheet – were rapidly thwarting the theory that 'two heads are better than one.' Booth watched in amusement as Alex temporarily set the instructions aside, clearly underestimating the power of the potent breeze as it promptly sent the flimsy sheet of paper careering across the clearing.

"Bones, look," he whispered, nudging his partner as she was in the process of diligently securing the poles of her compact dome tent.

Brennan glanced upwards, her lips quirking into a smile as she watched Alex making an increasingly desperate bid to retrieve the wayward sheet of paper. She sought out her partner's gaze to convey her amusement, but frowned when she realised that Booth had picked up the outer layer of her tent and was poised to manoeuvre it over the sturdy frame.

"I can manage, Booth," she informed him tersely, snatching the fabric out of his hands, and he shook his head in amusement.

"Yeah, I can see that, Bones. Just humour me, OK, and let me help."

"But I don't need any help," she protested, gesturing to her efforts so far. "I have an exemplary sense of spatial awareness, and I've done this plenty of times before, Booth. You may think that I'm accustomed to modern conveniences, but I lived in a tent for a month when I was in Guatemala. It was very rudimentary, but I coped remarkably well."

"Yeah, I'm sure you did, Bones." Booth tried to hide his surprise at her revelation, and frowned when he saw Sandra's tent flapping wildly in the breeze, threatening to depart from its frame completely. "At least let me hold it down while you fix the guy lines and pegs," he implored, and Brennan rolled her eyes in defeat.

"Fine," she snapped exasperatedly, taking a moment to secure several loose tendrils of hair that had been ripped away from her no-nonsense ponytail.

Booth struggled to keep his eyes averted as Bones tossed aside her coat and kicked off her shoes, crawling into the tent and providing him with an unprecedented view of her shapely ass. She made quick work of attaching the inner awning and they finished the task just as dusk was starting to settle, taking a moment to admire the outcome.

Their tents were adjacent to each other on level ground, sheltered from the elements by an imposing rock face and strategically positioned to avoid the areas that were likely to become boggy if it rained. Still, that did little to alleviate the cold, and Booth shivered when a particularly strong gust of wind billowed through the clearing. His clothes were damp with sweat, and he was eager to change them as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Several minutes later, a Guide who looked to be in his late thirties strode into the centre of the clearing, flanked by Jenny and a compact young man. His upright posture and commanding presence gave Booth the strong impression that he was ex-military, especially as his authoritative tone had little trouble winning its battle with the wind. "OK, everyone, it looks like you're making pretty good headway with your tents, so could you gather around for a moment, please?" he hollered, and Booth frowned, wondering whether his initial assumption had been wrong. From his experience, military personnel were not in the habit of doling out praise or saying please and thank you.

Everyone reluctantly obliged, and the new Guide favoured them with a tense smile. "I understand that you've already met my lovely associate, Jenny, so no introductions are required there," he began, frowning when some of the Agents started whispering amongst themselves and sniggering at the all-too-apt description. "I'm sorry, is there a problem?" he demanded, looking pointedly at Teresa, who appeared to visibly wilt under the intensity of his gaze. She shook her head slightly.

"Good," he snapped, momentarily abandoning all pretences of civility. "I'm Simon Winchester - I guess you could say I'm the guy in charge around here - and this is my colleague, Ross." He gestured to the brown-haired, youthful man besides him, who offered them a curt nod. "I'm sure you're all feeling the cold by now, so Ross is going to get a campfire started in a second." He titled his head towards the harried-looking young man, who obligingly scurried off to find some kindling. Simon watched his progress for a moment, and then turned to regard them with a penetrating gaze. "Now, I realise this probably isn't your usual scene, but we've made every effort to ensure that you're not too far away from some basic home comforts."

"Then you should probably know that I'm feeling way out of my comfort zone right now," Alex retorted, her expression defiant.

"Well then, you'd better suck it up, sweetheart, because this is about as good as it gets," Simon informed her, with a reproachful look that could have silenced a stadium full of people, let alone one ill-tempered FBI Agent with a superiority complex. Alex looked suitably chastised, and bowed her head in embarrassment.

_Oh yeah, this guy is definitely ex-military, _Booth thought, his lips twitching as he tried to repress an amused smirk.

"Those of you who aren't pre-disposed to whining will be pleased to know that Big Meadows has all of the amenities you could ask for given the circumstances – there are a few restrooms scattered around and a shower block that's about 400 metres up ahead. Just follow the signposts," Simon instructed, pointing to a wooden marker.

"Are the facilities cleaned on a regular basis?" Dean called out, looking somewhat concerned.

Simon rolled his eyes. "Oh God, don't tell me that we've got someone with OCD in our midst?" he asked exasperatedly, not even waiting for a response. "Look, this isn't the Crown Plaza, OK? The facilities aren't first rate by any stretch of the imagination, but the tourist season has been and gone, so at least you won't have to fight tooth and nail to use them. Just remember to take some quarters with you, because cleanliness isn't next to Godliness around here; it's next to a big pot that says 'profit.'"

Booth snorted, and Brennan looked at him in surprise.

"Booth, you just laughed at a blasphemous joke," she informed him flatly.

"What? No I didn't," he protested loudly, earning several curious glances.

"Excuse me! _I haven't finished speaking yet_," Simon yelled, glaring at them until he'd made it abundantly clear that he wouldn't tolerate any more interruptions. "Now, I know you're all probably pretty hungry, so we'll serve up some supper as soon as everyone's freshened up," he informed them. "For convenience purposes, we've opted for MREs, and you'll be pleased to know that there's a wide variety of culinary delights for you to choose from."

His sarcasm wasn't lost on the disgruntled Agents, and there was a collective groan that even Simon couldn't hope to contain. Brennan turned to her partner confusedly. "I don't understand, Booth. What's an MRE?"

"It stands for 'Meal: Ready To Eat,' Bones," he explained patiently, "Although there are a few choice alternatives. We used to call them 'Meals: Rejected by Everyone' or 'Meals: Rarely Edible,' back in the Rangers. You know, they're those little biodegradable pouches that soldiers take on exercises with them, when they don't have access to proper dining facilities. These guys must have been shopping at the Army Surplus Store," he concluded dryly, pulling a face.

"Are they really that bad?" Brennan ventured, and Booth laughed at her perturbed expression, shaking his head slightly and trying not to notice how cute his partner looked when she scrunched her nose up.

"Nah, you get used to them eventually. Some are better than others, though, and to be honest, I never tried the vegetarian options." He regarded his partner thoughtfully, before nudging her lightly with his elbow. "You've got to eat tonight, though, Bones. You already skipped lunch."

"Booth, I'm not a child. I'm perfectly capable of ascertaining when my body requires fuel," Brennan retorted. She was used to projecting an aura of self-sufficiency, but an errant part of her couldn't help but feel touched that her partner cared enough to monitor her eating habits.

"I'm just saying, you're going to have to keep your energy levels up if you want to carry on kicking everyone's collective ass, Bones."

"I realise that," she ground out, glaring at him in exasperation until his customary charm smile worked its magic and her expression gradually softened.

Simon was hoping that the exclamations of dissent would diminish of their own accord, but when the Agents showed no signs of quieting down, he stuck his fingers in his mouth, emitting a piercing whistle that resounded throughout the clearing and caused everyone in his vicinity - including Jenny - to flinch. "I thought that might get your attention," he yelled sarcastically. "Now, are you all finished whining like a bunch of three year olds? Because if your taste buds are that discerning, you could always hike to the nearest diner. It's only about twenty miles away," he informed them caustically, driving his point home by pointing into the distance. Then he stepped back, nodding towards Jenny and conveying a message that nobody else was party to.

"OK, you guys, there are a couple of other things you need to know while we've got your attention," Jenny stated loudly, her tone markedly more self-assured now that she had Simon to bolster her standpoint. "We've been pretty taken aback by how acrimonious a lot of your relationships are, and the vast majority of you clearly have a problem interacting with each other outside of a working environment - obviously, without realising the impact that kind of negativity can have on your professional relationships, too." She took a deep breath, receiving a look of encouragement from Simon. "We're all about fostering a positive mental attitude around here and, as I said before, we want to provide you with as many opportunities as possible to spend time getting to know your partner better, and to help you learn how to understand and appreciate your differences. Evidently, that isn't an easy thing to do when most of you aren't being very proactive about improving your relationships and you're using every activity as an excuse to hurt and insult each other."

Simon placed a hand on Jenny's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "What Jenny is obviously far too nice to say is that – with a few notable exceptions –" he glanced in the direction of Brennan and Booth, "You're a bunch of immature assholes who don't deserve your job titles. I don't give a shit if your boss paired you up because there was no one else left on the roster; there is no excuse for intentionally sabotaging an opportunity to become a better team and a bigger asset to the Bureau in the process. I know a lot of you harbour delusions about being professionals, but frankly, that's bullshit. I mean, just think about the image that you're projecting to other people for a second - because I know for damn sure that if I had suffered an injustice and Agent Johnson and Agent Norris turned up on my doorstep to tell me that they were the people in charge of making it all better, I'd slam the screen door in their faces. What idiot would put their faith in a partnership, when it's immediately apparent that the partners in question don't even have faith in each other?"

Simon's question hung thickly in the air, but was greeted with abject silence. Noticing the shame-faced expressions surrounding him, the imposing Guide turned his attention to Booth, his lips quirking slightly. "Agent Booth, I recognise a fellow serviceman when I see one. Would you want to go to war with any of these people?" he demanded, and Booth glanced up at him in surprise.

"I'd take Agent Lewis any day, but other than that, no, Sir," he responded with the crisp courteousness that had been instilled within him during his military years.

The Guide regarded him thoughtfully. "So, you wouldn't even want your own partner onside?" he demanded, his tone laced with both surprise and condemnation.

Booth glanced at Brennan, and the wounded expression on her face made his gut twist into a painful knot. "I'd put my life in her hands without question, Sir, I know she'd always have my back, but I… I wouldn't want to expose her to that. I wouldn't want to see her get hurt," he explained, silently willing Bones to meet his gaze, willing her to understand that he hadn't been questioning her competency, he'd been questioning his ability to handle losing what mattered to him the most.

Brennan glanced at him sharply, her expression unreadable. "That's not your decision to make, Booth," she said quietly, and their eyes locked intently until they realised that everyone else, including Simon, was staring at them with avid interest.

Sandra threw a tent peg in her partner's direction, offering him a wry smile. "You know, if you said things like that to me, Mark, I'd like you a whole lot better."

Everyone laughed, instantly diffusing the tension, and Simon allowed the group to enjoy a rare moment of unity before he clapped loudly to recapture their attention.

"OK, so I think I've made my point," he noted wryly, ""And, with that in mind, we've decided to set you another task for this evening. Now, from what I understand, partners often have to spend a lot of time together in a confined space… whether it be in cars, the interrogation room, looking over evidence together..." He sighed, already anticipating the pessimistic reaction his ensuing words were likely to have. "I know that kind of closeness is something most of you probably try to avoid unless it's absolutely necessary, but tonight, we're not going to give you that option. I know most of you have brought your own tents, but we're going to ask you to forsake them in favour of sharing with your partners."

There was a collective gasp of horror and, as per usual, Alex was the first to verbalise her objections.

"No," she said, shaking her head angrily. "I mean, I get what you're saying, I really do, but there is no fucking way that I'm getting gassed in my sleep."

"You'll be lucky if I don't smother you after what you put me through earlier," Bob retorted, eliciting a round of laughter.

"Let me ask you one thing," Sergio demanded, staring at Simon with a gaze that was almost as intimidating as the Guide's own, "Why the fuck did you stand there and watch us put up our tents if you knew damn well you were going to ask us to do this?" he spat out, clearly besides himself with anger. "I mean, what a waste of fucking time."

"No, it wasn't a waste of time," Simon informed him evenly, "Because we knew that a lot of you would be voicing your objections. And that's fine, if you really feel that you can't partake in this task, by all means, stay in your own tent. We don't want anyone losing sleep because they feel uncomfortable. Of course, that means you'll forfeit the three points that the partners who do manage to get through the night together will be awarded in the morning. In fact…" Simon looked thoughtful for a moment, "It would be fairer if we made this a permanent arrangement, just in case any of you change your mind after tonight - then you can reclaim points that you may have lost out on, or lose points that you may have gained, if you happen to discover that the experience was even more hideous than you'd anticipated. So…" he regarded Alex pointedly, "If you want to stay at the bottom of the league table, Agent Johnson, by all means, kick up a fuss."

Simon then turned to face the group in general. "Look guys, this task will either make or break you. For the sake of an easier, and much more enjoyable life, you can decide to cut the crap and try to get along with your partners, or you can continue to tear each other apart and drag everyone else down with you."

Booth made a valiant effort to listen to Simon's speech, but his thoughts were almost entirely consumed with the prospect of sharing a tent with his partner. It was going to be torture. Sweet, sweet torture. The scenarios playing on a continuous loop in his over-stimulated mind were limitless, and the hand that suddenly came to rest against his forearm certainly didn't help.

"Booth, are you all right? You look a little flustered," Brennan observed, neglecting to mention the inexplicable fluttering in her own stomach, or her elevated heart rate.

"Me? Yeah… no…. I mean, I'm good, Bones. I'm fine," Booth choked out, his bumbling speech pattern clearly emphasising that he was anything but.

"While I admit that it's… far from being an ideal situation, I'm… happy to undertake the task," Brennan informed him, her expression suddenly hesitant. "Unless… I mean… we don't have to… if you don't want to."

"No, it's… it's fine, Bones. I'm happy to… you know… give it a shot, if you are." _So very, very happy. _Booth hoped his grin wasn't too transparent. "I'm… pretty sure that I don't snore, or anything. You… you won't even know I'm there." _Unless my subconscious takes over and I accidentally molest you in my sleep, _he inwardly added.

Brennan nodded, looking thoughtful. "It's just that if Teresa and Otis – or Sergio and Dean, for that matter – complete the task, then we'll lose our position at the top of the leader board," she reasoned, in a desperate attempt to rationalise the surge of anticipation that she was currently feeling.

"That's not gonna happen, Bones," Booth reassured her with a tentative smile. "So…" he ventured after a moment's silence, "Which tent do you want to take? Yours or mine?"

"Well, mine is bigger," Brennan said needlessly, although suddenly the desire for her own space didn't seem quite so significant, "But yours probably offers better protection against the elements."

"Well, it is pretty windy," Booth observed, trying desperately hard not to smile. "And cold. My ground sheet's a lot thicker than yours."

Brennan nodded. "OK, I'll move my possessions into your tent once we've had dinner."

"_Possessions_?" Booth mocked, starting to laugh. "Why can't you just say 'stuff' like everyone else, Bones?"

"Because it is a ridiculously generic term that I dislike immensely," she countered, although she couldn't stop her lips from quirking in amusement. She glanced around at the Agents surrounding her, noticing their increasingly agitated state. "I don't know why everyone insists on making such a fuss," she complained, frowning. "I mean, it's no big deal, right? We're just sleeping together, that's all."

Booth's eyes widened, and then he accomplished the admirable feat of choking on his own saliva, relieved to see Simon walking towards them so he wouldn't have to explain the reason for his impromptu coughing fit.

"Ah, behold our reigning champions," Simon enthused, making something of a fanfare as he approached them. He eyed them with amusement, and then pulled a bottle of scotch from behind his back, discreetly handing it to Booth. "If it'd been anyone else, I would've given them the hot chocolate, but Jenny assures me that the likelihood of you two scratching each other's eyes out after consuming a couple of shots is pretty much non-existent. At least it'll warm your cockles tonight," he concluded wryly, leaning forwards conspiratorially. "Just don't drink too much, because we've got an early start tomorrow."

"I'm a very responsible drinker, and I have no intention of becoming inebriated," Brennan informed him earnestly, and Booth started to laugh.

"What she means to say is 'thank you very much,'" he informed their Guide wryly, rolling his eyes and shooting an affectionate smile in his partner's direction.

"I can speak for myself, Booth," she reprimanded him lightly, nudging his shoulder with her own before turning to appraise their Guide, "But yes, thank you very much."

"Did you two draw the short straw or something?" Simon asked, watching their interaction with an amused smile.

"I don't know what that means," Brennan informed him apologetically, turning to her partner with a quizzical expression on her face.

"Bones, one of these days I'm going to get you a bumper sticker," Booth joked, shaking his head despairingly. "That's kind of her catchphrase," he notified Simon, before hastening to explain the origin of the phrase to his partner. "It's similar to tossing a coin, Bones, except you use it when there's a larger group of people. If none of them wants to do a task, a member of the group takes a handful of straws and makes sure one of them is shorter than the rest, and whoever pulls the shortest one out of their hand ends up with the crappy deal. Simon basically means that he doesn't know why the hell we're here, either," he clarified, and his partner nodded to indicate that she understood.

"Does that mean we can go home?" Brennan asked, the hopeful tone she had been aiming for somehow amalgamating into one of disappointment instead.

"I'm afraid the rules are pretty rigid, Dr Brennan. Unless you happen to suffer a severe injury, the FBI has made it clear that you're obligated to complete all five days of the course. If you don't, you're deemed to have failed, and I'd hate to see you and Agent Booth suffer the repercussions of that when you're evidently going to pass with flying colours," Simon informed her regretfully.

"Can't you give us an official pardon or something?" Booth implored, and Simon started to laugh, shaking his head.

"Sorry, Agent Booth, no can do. I know it sounds like a hopeless cliché, but I'm a firm believer that everyone has something to learn from this experience, especially if they're amenable to the exercises from the outset, like you two. You could end up getting more out of this than anyone else, actually, and God knows, it'd be nice to have at least one success story to write home about," Simon joked wryly.

"I have to concede, that while I resent the assumption that Booth and I have anything in common with these people, and I disapprove of his superiors' arbitrary decision to send us here on such a tenuous basis, I have found the experience to be rather enjoyable and… enlightening thus far," Brennan admitted, and Booth offered her a warm smile.

"It looks like we're stuck in the madhouse for the duration, then, Bones," he deadpanned, and Simon grinned at them jovially.

"For what it's worth, I think you're both a very good influence on that rabble back there, and they're quickly going to realise that if they want to stand any chance of beating you, then they're going to have to make more of an effort to examine why you work so well together, and try to emulate that."

Booth snorted in amusement. "Well, they can try," he murmured, knowing perfectly well that what he and Bones shared wasn't something that could be replicated.

Simon nodded, reaching out to shake both of their hands. "OK, well, it was a pleasure meeting you both. I'll let you go and get freshened up now," he asserted amiably, and Booth clapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Sure. Thanks, man," he said, and Simon nodded obligingly, sending a wink in their direction.

"You're welcome, Agent Booth - and make sure you keep up the good work, because you two make a great team."


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N – I've posted two updates today, so please read Chapter 4 first if you haven't stumbled across it already! Thanks._**

* * *

After finishing their respective meals, which weren't quite as unpalatable as they'd anticipated, the group gathered into a patchy circle around the campfire in a bid to instil some warmth into their rigid frames. Booth was still grinning at his partner's enthusiasm for the flameless ration heater included in her MRE. She had spent ten minutes explaining to him how the device worked and, although he'd reminded her that the instructions were clearly stated on the back of the heating pouch and basically involved adding water, Bones had insisted on subjecting him to a lecture on exothermic reactions and the oxidation of magnesium. Still, she'd sampled the cheese and vegetable omelette _and_ the bean and rice burritos, so he couldn't complain. Now, freshly showered and clad in several layers of clean clothing, they were both leaning against an eroded rock face and gratefully absorbing the heat from the crackling fire, oblivious to the acrid scent of smoke surrounding them. The crescent moon was beaming down brightly on the clearing, illuminating their scenic surroundings, and the frost that had rapidly blanketed the frozen ground was glinting ethereally in the dappled silver light.

Bones looked genuinely enchanted by their surroundings and, with her strong features bathed in the soft hues of twilight, Booth couldn't help but notice how extraordinarily beautiful she was.

"It's so pretty," Brennan observed, a little breathlessly, and Booth let out an undignified snort.

"_Pretty_?" he echoed, unable to stop himself from breaking into a wide grin.

"What?" she demanded, glaring at him defiantly. "It is!"

"I know, Bones," he assured her, trying desperately hard not to laugh. "That was just a _pretty _girly thing for you to say, that's all."

"Very funny, Booth," Brennan said reproachfully. "Are you planning on dissecting my vocabulary for the rest of the night? Because, in case you hadn't noticed, I _am_ a girl… although I resent the connotations of frivolity that the label implies."

"Believe me, Bones, I've noticed," Booth murmured softly, immediately regretting the ill-conceived words when Brennan glanced at him sharply, an odd expression on her face.

His heart began to beat at a rapidly accelerated rhythm when she opened her mouth to respond, but Simon once again saved him from the potential humiliation by standing up to garner the group's attention.

"I hate to play Mommy here, but I want to make sure that everyone has put their trash in the bag before Ross takes it over to the dumpster. Don't leave anything lying around, because this is bear country, and I'm sure as hell not Grizzly Adams, OK?"

Everyone laughed, with the exception of Brennan, who looked faintly bewildered.

"Grizzly Adams was a TV series back in the seventies, Bones," Booth hastened to explain, immediately understanding the reason behind his partner's uncomprehending expression. "It's about this guy who rescues an orphaned bear cub and raises it into adulthood, and the bear winds up being his best friend, even when it's big enough to tear him limb from limb. You know, kind of like Dian Fossey with the gorillas," he clarified, trying to link his anecdote to a reference he knew his partner would understand.

"Oh." Brennan nodded with a grateful smile, but it rapidly faded when her mind returned to the conversation she had overheard in the restroom earlier. "I'm… I'm sorry that you have to spend so much time explaining things to me Booth," she said softly, bowing her head, and Booth quickly closed the meagre distance between them, lightly bumping her shoulder.

"Bones, it's fine, it's not like I mind," he assured her, breaking into a rueful grin. "Besides, you do realise that you spend half your time translating squint speak for me, right? The whole explaining thing… well, it works both ways, Bones."

It was an objective assertion, and Brennan was surprised that she hadn't considered the issue from that perspective before. Her lips curved at the corners as she absorbed the truth in her partner's words. "I suppose you're right," she admitted, and Booth didn't fail to notice the tension seeping out of her starched posture.

"Now _that _isn't something I hear very often," he countered in a teasing tone, the muscles in his jaw twitching slightly when he recalled the last instance of Brennan willingly conceding defeat; namely when he was explaining the difference between crappy sex and making love.

Hoping that she couldn't read his thoughts, he glanced furtively in Bones' direction, only to find her staring back at him with that same indecipherable expression. Booth was somewhat taken aback when she blushed and promptly looked away.

"Bones… I…" He trailed off, wondering what the hell to say, and was marginally relieved when Jenny relieved him of the burden.

"OK, everyone, we've got another task lined up for you now," she informed them with her customary enthusiasm, holding out her hands to ward off their protests. "Don't worry, this one shouldn't be too traumatic - it's not about points, or prizes; it's about going back to your roots and remembering why you got involved with the FBI in the first place. So, working clockwise around the circle, I'd like each one of you to tell the group what your motivation was for joining the Bureau - or, in Dr Brennan's case, why she decided to work alongside them. Is that OK?" Jenny's cheeks were straining under the weight of her smile as she sought their approval. "Agent Stubbs, would you like to start?"

Dean looked marginally alarmed, and glanced around the group with a nervous smile. "Yeah... um… sure. I guess it's just something that was ingrained in me from an early age," he explained, shrugging. "My Dad was a Fed, and so was my Grandfather, and there was never any doubt that I would follow in their footsteps. They'd always try and outdo each other, you know, debating about who'd been involved in the biggest sting, and I used to sit and listen to these hyped-up stories about them catching bank robbers, and solving murders, and I used to think that they were the coolest guys on Earth. The crime-solving gene just runs in the family, I guess," he concluded, with a laugh that almost sounded bitter.

Jenny nodded, looking thoughtful, and then levelled a smile in Dean's direction. "That was very informative, Agent Stubbs. Thank you for sharing," she enthused, and Dean looked slightly non-plussed.

"Oh God," Booth groaned under his breath, and Brennan turned to regard him in surprise.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, and he shook his head ruefully.

"Nothing, Bones. It's just… this is going to wind up playing out like a GA meeting, that's all," he lamented, and seeing his partner's confused expression, he knew he was going to be forced to elaborate. "Gamblers Anonymous," he clarified, heaving a sigh. "Basically, everyone lays their soul bare and tells you why they're such a fuck-up – as if seeking solace in a roomful of losers is gonna make you feel better."

"You're not a fuck-up, Booth - or a loser," Brennan whispered fervently, knowing that her partner was probably loath to tell a group of strangers about his time in the Rangers.

Booth stared at her for a moment, his liquid brown eyes looking almost black in the flickering firelight, and then he smiled softly. "Thanks, Bones."

Brennan held his intense gaze for several seconds, reluctantly wrenching her eyes away when she realised that Otis Lewis was poised to begin his own speech.

The African-American Agent levelled a rueful grin in the group's general direction. "Well, hopeless cliché though it may be," he began, rolling his eyes, "I grew up in the underbelly of the Bronx, and I guess you could say that I had the full ghetto experience. You know - gangs, drug dealers, drive-by shootings…" He sighed, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. "The Feds used to turn up at our school every other week, wanting all the gory details about the latest shooting, the latest rape, the latest shipment of crack. They'd do a half-assed job of wheedling information out of people, and then we'd never hear from them again - until the next time. I watched them walk away from the truth over and over again; but I knew the repercussions of opening my mouth, so I stayed silent and studied hard. It got to the stage where I wanted to do their jobs for them, you know?" he asked rhetorically, regarding the group intently with his warm, dark eyes, "I wanted to be the one that people could relate to, the one that people could trust, and I knew that - no matter how many obstacles they put in my path - I would break down every damn wall until I found out the truth." He laughed self-deprecatingly, shaking his head. "I guess I was an idealist back then."

The group were quiet for a moment, lost in thought, and Jenny reached out to lay a hand on Otis' forearm. "I'm sure you've made a difference to a lot of people's lives Agent Lewis, and I've no doubt that you'll continue to do so."

He regarded her dubiously at first, gauging her sincerity, but then his features gradually softened into an amiable smile. "Well, I'll try, Jenny. That's the best any of us can hope to do."

She nodded contemplatively, before gradually turning her attention to Mark. "Agent Simmons? What about you?"

Mark snorted wryly. "Now I feel obliged to say something profound," he joked, clapping Agent Lewis lightly on the shoulder. "But the truth is, this is just something I fell into. I had a couple of friends who dropped out of Quantico and I wanted to see if I could stick it out, that's all. I don't think this is my vocation or anything, but I guess it could be worse. I mean, I get a gun, and a nice set of wheels. I get to put the bad guys away, and chicks really dig that a lot. I just like people looking at me with a sense of respect, you know?"

"He's obviously living in a parallel universe," Sandra deadpanned, earning a glare from her partner and a round of laughter from everyone else.

Jenny visibly cringed. "Come on guys, you've all been doing so well. Let's just try and listen to each other and reserve judgement until later, OK?" she implored, her eyes rapidly settling on an oblivious Brennan. "Dr Brennan, tell us how you became involved in your field of speciality," she urged, offering the Anthropologist a supportive smile.

Brennan looked slightly panicked for a moment, but then she felt Booth's weight pressing reassuringly against her shoulder, and sucked in a calming breath. Many of these people already thought the worst of her, so it was irrational to fear the consequences of speaking the truth. "My parents… disappeared… when I was fifteen," she began haltingly, and Booth smiled at her softly, pride visibly shining in his empathetic eyes as she prepared to take a leap of faith and confide in a group of relative strangers.

"As you would expect, I spent a lot of time wondering what happened to them… why they left... where they'd gone… I didn't even know if they were still alive," Brennan informed them quietly, ducking her head to avoid their curious gazes. "As a teenager, I was preoccupied with envisaging the worst case scenarios, but I quickly realised that was a self-destructive mentality. Science taught me that agonising over the 'what ifs' was a futile, self-indulgent exercise – if I wanted answers, if I wanted to find out the truth, then I had to evaluate the evidence… I had to be objective." She paused, seeking out her partner's gaze and feeling slightly disconcerted upon discovering that Booth was staring at her even more avidly than everyone else.

Her eyes flitted nervously towards Alex and Teresa, and she was surprised to see that they were listening attentively, devoid of their habitually critical expressions. Brennan realised that her speech may have offered some justification for her somewhat unorthodox career choice, and perhaps she was refuting their assumption that she was some kind of freak.

"Forensic Anthropology seemed… like a natural segue way," she continued warily. "I had an intrinsic aptitude for the subject, and I found it fascinating. It appealed to my sense of justice, because I knew it would allow me to give names to people who had otherwise been forgotten. That was compounded when I spent several months identifying the victims of genocide in Guatemala, and I helped to ensure that the people responsible for the atrocities were brought to justice."

"That's amazing, Dr Brennan," Jenny gushed enthusiastically, noticing that everyone was spellbound by the Anthropologist's eloquence. "Now, can you tell us how you came to offer your services to the FBI?" the Guide ventured, looking hopeful.

"I…" Brennan hesitated, acutely aware of the attention she had garnered and the fact that she had been talking for significantly longer than everyone else. "I don't want to bore you," she mumbled, blushing slightly.

"Hey… you're not boring anyone, Bones," Booth reassured her, and there were several murmurs of assent. "See?" he whispered, regarding her with an affectionate smile.

"OK… well… I didn't want to work alongside the FBI – at least, not at first," Brennan informed them, her lips quirking slightly in amusement as everyone started to laugh. "I didn't _offer_ my services, I was _compelled_ to do so, and I felt like I was being loaned out on demand. But working with Booth has made me realise that my chosen profession has a lot more potential than I initially envisaged – he's helped me to see that I can help the living, as well as the dead." She glanced at her partner, her translucent eyes shimmering in the moonlight. "In Guatemala, people were slain alongside their loved ones, whole villages were ransacked and destroyed, and there was no one to claim the remains that I recovered. It made the experience even more disheartening," she noted wistfully, feeling a hand come to rest against the small of her back. "The cases that I work on with Booth are different. Nearly every victim has a family, and knowing that we have the capacity to give them the answers and provide them with the closure that I thought I'd never have myself... well, that's comparatively uplifting. Especially when we've compiled enough evidence to personally confront the person who caused them that pain and ensure that they're never able to hurt anyone else again."

"Wow. Isn't that inspiring, everyone?" Jenny exclaimed. "Dr Brennan readily admits that she wasn't very happy about working with Agent Booth at first, but clearly she was able to work through her issues and focus on the positive aspects of their partnership."

"Yeah, maybe you should take up motivational speaking as a sideline, Bones," Booth teased, poking his partner lightly in the ribs. "That was quite an impressive speech you gave there."

"Booth…" she protested, wriggling away from him, but she stopped abruptly when she felt her partner's hand come to rest against her thigh, the warmth of his palm effortlessly penetrating the thick fabric of her jeans.

"I'm serious, Temperance," he whispered earnestly, eyeing her with disconcerting intensity. "I wish that damn jury consultant could see you now. You have no idea how much I…I'm proud of you."

Brennan blushed, feeling her freezing cheeks suffuse with heat, and she ducked her head so her partner wouldn't be able to see the pleasure brimming in her azure eyes.

Both of them were oblivious to the fact that Teresa was discreetly observing every facet of their interaction.

"Oh my God, Alex. Look at them," she whispered, nudging her friend until Alex obligingly turned her head in the requisite direction. "That's what I meant earlier," she enthused, shaking her head in amusement, "They are completely and utterly besotted with each other. I hate to be the one to break it to you, Al, but you can't compete with true love."

"Mmm," Alex mumbled noncommittally, turning away to stare into the recesses of the fire.

Teresa misinterpreted her friend's melancholy expression. "Hey, if it's any consolation, I still don't think they're screwing. I mean, they're smart people… if they were in a relationship, they'd be making every effort to hide it, not feeling each other up in public. I don't think they even realise they're doing it," she noted with amusement. "My jaw pretty much hit the floor when Booth planted one on her, earlier." When Alex's expression remained utterly apathetic, she punched her lightly on the arm. "What the hell is wrong with you, Johnson?"

"Maybe she's realised the error of her ways after the good doctor gave her speech back there," Sandra noted pointedly, and Alex glanced at her sharply, shaking her head.

"What? No!" she exclaimed, forcing an incredulous laugh. "This task just sucks, that's all."

"Oh come on, it's not that bad," Teresa chided her, slapping Alex companionably on the thigh. "And besides, you're about to get an insight into lover boy's innermost thoughts, so that ought to cheer you up a bit." She gestured to Booth, who was poised to begin his own discourse, and bit her lip to keep from laughing when Alex's maudlin expression promptly evolved into one of rapt fascination.

"In the past, I've done some things that I'm not too proud of," Booth admitted, aware that his partner's gaze was fixed on him intently. "The people who I looked up to always told me that my actions were for the greater good, but there are… a lot of grey areas, and sometimes it's… it's hard to differentiate between right and wrong. I mean, we're all fighting for a cause, right? We all believe in something… but it got to the stage where I started to wonder whether my cause really was bigger and better than everyone else's." Booth sighed, painfully aware of the fact that he was talking in riddles.

"I felt like I'd taken a lot away from people, I guess, so I wanted to give something back. I wanted a job where I could make a difference; where I could go into the field knowing that I was going to hit the right target and help the right people." He sent a warm smile in his partner's direction. "And that's not a problem anymore, because I've got a partner who happens to be brilliant at giving me the facts - no frills attached. She never puts a slant on her findings or manipulates them for her own gain, and I'll never doubt her methods, either, because I've been privileged enough to see her – and her wacky team of squints - in action. We figure things out together, and knowing that we've made an informed decision… well, I guess it helps me to sleep at night," he concluded, shrugging slightly.

It took a long time for everyone's gaze to leave Booth and focus on Sergio, and Brennan waited until the group's attention was diverted elsewhere before leaning towards her partner.

"Booth… I'm sure you did the best you could with the facts you had," she whispered in the direct vicinity of her partner's ear, and Booth turned to appraise her sharply, wondering when she'd become so adept at reading between the lines.

"I was following other people's orders, Bones," he whispered back, shaking his head despairingly. "_They_ were the ones who had the facts."

"Then it wasn't your decision, Booth, and the blame can't possibly lie on your shoulders."

"But don't you get it, Bones?" he asked, his hushed tone laced with anguish, "I was the one with the rifle in my hand, OK? I was the one who ultimately decided whether those people lived or died, and I had no right to make that decision - especially when there were innocent people involved." He sighed, swallowing the prominent lump in his throat. "I was always taught that God should be the only one making judgements of that magnitude."

"Well, I'm sure your God would appreciate the fact that you were only trying to do the right thing," she murmured, laying a hand on his forearm. "I've known you for four years Booth, and you… you always do the right thing."

Booth fleetingly rested his head against his partner's shoulder, squeezing her hand lightly before turning his attention to Alex, who was next in the spotlight.

"This should be good," he muttered sarcastically, and Brennan nodded, rolling her eyes.

The blonde Agent took a deep breath, exhaling audibly. "OK, so I had this friend who I met back in kindergarten and we pretty much grew up together. We were joined at the hip, at least until high school, and then we kind of went our separate ways. I got sucked into the popular crowd; she was more of the bookworm type, but we still hung out together every once in a while. She helped to keep me grounded, you know? I didn't have to put on an act in front of her; she knew the real me, warts and all." Alex paused for a moment, biting her lip to keep it from trembling.

"Anyhow, one day she disappeared. I remember searching the neighbourhood with my Dad – there was a massive manhunt, but the cops just couldn't seem to find her." She zoned out for a moment, playing with the zipper on her jacket. "Anyway, three weeks later, her body showed up in a dumpster truck. She'd been violated in pretty much every conceivable way, and it made me sick, because Mandy was just about the nicest girl you could ever hope to meet… and yeah, I know what you're all thinking, why the hell was she friends with me, right?" She laughed derisively, taking a moment to clear her throat.

"My Dad tried to stop me from reading the papers, but I walked past three newsstands on my way to school and found out all the gory details from there. I was so happy when they finally found the guy who did it. He had a whole host of priors, he'd already spent 15 years behind bars for a rape with the same MO, but I guess this time he figured he'd kill the girl to stop her from talking." She sucked in a ragged breath, smiling tremulously at Teresa when she gently squeezed her hand. "I begged my Dad to let me go to the trial, but it never happened, because the bastard got off on a technicality. The Feds had made some major fuck-ups when they were obtaining the – mostly circumstantial - evidence, and they never managed to get a confession out of the asshole, so he walked." She shook her head, her anger becoming increasingly apparent. "I didn't really understand at the time, but all I could think about was how that sick fuck was still out on the streets, waiting for some other poor girl to prey on. I told my Dad I wanted to do something to protect people from monsters like that and I guess, for once, I followed through."

Everyone was silent for a moment, visibly taken aback, and seeing their burgeoning expressions of sympathy, Booth's jaw visibly clenched. A tale of someone else's tragic demise wasn't going to vindicate Alex in his eyes – it didn't change the fact that she had maligned his partner for no justifiable reason. He turned to the blonde Agent, regarding her thoughtfully. "I'm sure your friend would be really proud if she could see you now, Alex," he said, his tone brimming with compassion, but when she turned to regard him, he quirked an eyebrow pointedly in her direction, his expression clearly conveying his true feelings.

The group was astounded when Alex's face visibly began to crumple. She sucked in a ragged breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob, and then promptly burst into tears, stumbling to her feet with her hand over her mouth. She fled in the direction of the nearest restroom, and Teresa, whose expression was furrowed with concern, hastily pursued her, leaving Jenny completely bewildered by the sudden change in atmosphere.

"Maybe we should finish this tomorrow," the Guide suggested tentatively, and it took less than a nanosecond for the Agents to offer their vehement assent.

* * *

"Booth, did you do that on purpose?" Brennan demanded, zipping up their tent and turning to appraise her partner in the murky torchlight. Booth affected a look of innocence.

"What?"

"You made her cry!" Brennan accused, her lips twitching slightly as she removed her coat, placing it along the border of the tent in the hope of retaining more warmth. They'd only been away from the campfire for a few minutes, and she was already shivering.

Booth followed her example and shed his own heavyweight jacket, his eyes widening slightly as his partner reached for her backpack and extracted a pair of fleece pyjamas.

"She had it coming, Bones," he stated flatly, moistening his suddenly dry lips as he watched Brennan shrugging her way out of her thick sweatshirt, causing the layers underneath to ride up and reveal the cute little dimples on her lower back. "You of all people should know that."

"I know that Alex is an exceptionally vindictive person, Booth, but it doesn't mean to say that we have to stoop to her level."

"I wasn't," he protested angrily. "I didn't know she was going to react like that. I just wanted to give her something to think about, that's all." He raised his eyebrows, snorting in surprise. "Bones, are you wearing thermal underwear?" he demanded, his entertainment momentarily overshadowing his arousal as Brennan stripped down to a tight fitting, but decidedly nondescript pair of grey long johns, which wouldn't have looked flattering on a supermodel.

"They're supposed to be practical, Booth, not alluring. They're an extremely effective way of retaining heat. You should try them some time," she informed him caustically.

"I'm not the one who's shivering," he retorted, regarding her sleeping bag distastefully. "That synthetic piece of crap isn't going to help, either," he observed, fingering the thin fabric worriedly. "I thought you were supposed to be a Scientist, Bones? Surely you should know that down sleeping bags are much warmer?"

"Yes, and they lose all of their redeeming features as soon as they get wet. Synthetic sleeping bags retain heat even when they're damp, so they're far more versatile in volatile weather."

"Do you see any rain, Bones?" Booth asked, pointing to the roof of their tent.

Brennan sighed, pulling on her pyjama pants and burrowing into her sleeping bag. "You're going to be much colder than me, Booth," she stated smugly, tugging on the edge of his double sleeping bag. "I bet you won't be grateful for the extra leg room when the cold is seeping in through the gaps. Sleeping bags are designed to be snug, not spacious," she informed him condescendingly, rolling her eyes. "If you knew anything about insulation you would have brought a single instead."

She reached for her backpack, pulling out a brush and running it unceremoniously through her knotted auburn hair. Booth watched her practised movements with an expression that did little to hide his enchantment, but he couldn't resist breaking into a grin when Brennan pulled a sleeping cap from the recesses of her pack, tugging it over her head until it covered the tips of her ears.

"Oh my God, it's Mary Ingalls," he exclaimed, and to his utmost surprise, Brennan started to laugh.

"It's not a Victorian bonnet, Booth," she informed him wryly, her laughter intensifying when she saw his shocked expression. "What? I've seen _'Little House on the Prairie' _before!" she informed him, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Praise the Lord, it's a miracle!" Booth announced, doing his best impression of a Southern Baptist as he attempted the complicated feat of removing his jeans within the confines of his sleeping bag.

"There's no need to be modest, Booth," Brennan informed him matter-of-factly, "I've seen you naked before, remember?"

"Jeez, Bones, do you think you could say that a little louder?" Booth reprimanded her sarcastically, placing his hand over his partner's mouth when he saw her take a breath. "I was joking!" he hissed, shaking his head despairingly.

"Alex and Teresa are already under the impression that our relationship transcends the boundaries of professionalism," Brennan informed him nonchalantly, and Booth's eyes widened in surprise.

"What?"

"They intimated in the restroom that they thought we might be…" she hesitated for a moment, "I believe the term they used was 'screwing,'" she said thoughtfully. "They suggested that you were head over shoes in love with me."

"Head over heels, Bones," Booth automatically corrected her, burying his face in his hands. "I'm _head over heels_ in love with you," he clarified, his expression rapidly evolving into one of utter mortification. "I mean…not that I… I don't…"

"It's fine. You don't feel that way about me, Booth, I understand," Brennan assured him lightly, rolling onto her side so she was facing away from him. "Would you mind turning the torch off? I'd like to go to sleep now."

"Whoa, Bones, don't you want a night cap first?" Booth inquired, pulling the bottle of scotch out of the bag they'd stashed it in earlier. "It'll warm you up," he cajoled, cracking the cap and proffering the pungent liquid to his partner.

"I'm fine, thank you, Booth," Brennan informed him curtly, not making any effort to turn around.

Booth took a hearty swig of the scotch himself, hoping to find some Dutch courage. "Did it bother you, Bones?" he asked softly, and he watched his partner's shivering frame stiffen slightly.

"Did what bother me?"

"When Alex and Teresa made that assumption about us. Did it bother you?"

Brennan sighed loudly. "It would be inherently illogical for me to be affected by supposition that has no basis in reality, Booth." She glanced furtively at her partner, and was surprised to see disappointment register on his features.

"Yeah, sure," Booth mumbled noncommittally, fumbling around the floor of their tent until he located his torch. "Night Bones," he muttered wearily, jumping slightly when his partner's glacial hand enveloped his own, preventing him from flicking the switch.

"Maybe I will have some of that scotch after all," Brennan murmured, and he watched with amusement as her trembling hands struggled to retain their grip on the bottle.

"You'd better not be trying to get my sleeping bag wet on purpose, Bones," he teased, but then all traces of humour rapidly faded from his gaze. "You're really shaking," he noted with concern, and the fact that Brennan didn't refute his assumption led him to believe that she was probably freezing her ass off. "Swap sleeping bags with me," he commanded, shrugging his way out of his cosy cocoon and frowning when Bones shook her head stubbornly, pulling her own sleeping back tightly under her chin.

"I'm fine, Booth."

"Don't lie to me, Bones, because you're making a pretty crappy advertisement for the merits of thermal underwear right now," he informed her sardonically. "You're lips are turning blue."

"They are not," she countered petulantly, rolling her eyes.

"Don't be stubborn just to prove a point, Bones, or else you're going to wind up looking like a Popsicle in the morning. I don't think the flameless ration heaters come with a 'defrost' option."

Brennan snorted. "You're being ridiculously melodramatic, Booth. I'm sure everyone else is feeling the effects of the cold just as keenly."

"I don't give a damn about everyone else," he countered angrily. "Temperance, please," he implored, and she regarded him exasperatedly.

"Fine," she eventually conceded, heaving an aggrieved sigh and obligingly shedding her sleeping bag. She quickly clambered into Booth's, curling into a ball and relishing the lingering effects of her partner's body heat.

"Bones, where the hell did you buy this thing? In Guatemala?" Booth demanded after a moment's respite, "Because it sure as hell wasn't designed for these conditions."

Brennan snorted. "No, I bought it from a reputable store, but suffice it to say, I won't be shopping there again," she said in a rare attempt at humour, noticing her partner's less-than-amused expression. "Booth, you wanted to switch with me," she reminded him defensively. "In fact, it would be more accurate to say that you _insisted_."

Booth looked towards the heavens, silently praying for strength. "I know I did, Bones. Just… toss my jeans over, would you?"

"Why?" Brennan demanded, regarding him with amusement.

"Because I want to put them back on, Bones, why do you think?"

Brennan handed her partner his starched denim pants, and Booth was forced to worm his way out of her tight-fitting sleeping bag so he could don them again. He turned his back towards her, and Brennan noticed the goose flesh spreading over his bare, muscular legs with a twinge of concern. She took a moment to admire the sculpted definition of her partner's toned calves and quadriceps before he pulled on his jeans and hastily clambered back into the confines of his newly-acquired sleeping bag, and then she rapidly averted her gaze.

"Night Booth," she whispered, watching her partner retrieve his powerful torch from the floor of the tent.

"Goodnight, Bones," Booth responded softly, offering her a warm grin before plunging them into darkness.

* * *

Around forty minutes later, Brennan was roused from a fitful sleep by the muted sounds of her partner fumbling around aimlessly in the darkness. She heard a zipper tentatively engage, and realised that Booth was trying desperately hard not to wake her as he eased his backpack open, quietly searching for some unknown object. She waited for a couple of moments, and then removed her arm from the confines of Booth's sleeping bag, soundlessly groping along the floor of their tent until she successfully located the torch. She flicked it on without any warning, and Booth blinked up at her in surprise, clutching a pack of high-strength Ibuprofen and an extra pair of socks, which he hastily tried to conceal.

"Booth…" Brennan's forehead creased in concern as she adjusted to the comparative brightness, and she examined her partner's ashen pallor and drawn features worriedly.

"Just… don't, Bones," Booth beseeched her in a wary tone, "I'm fine." He removed two of the pills from their foil enclosure, draining the last of his water as he swallowed them simultaneously.

"But I – "

"Bones," he interjected in a measured tone. "I said I'm fine. Just go back to sleep."

Booth pulled on the extra pair of socks, barely concealing his wince, and he glanced at his partner sharply when she laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You were right, your sleeping bag is much warmer than mine," Brennan conceded ruefully, offering him a small smile, "And even if you won't admit it, the packet of analgesics in your hand clearly indicate that your feet are hurting because of the cold, Booth. So…" she took a deep breath, "You can either take your sleeping bag back, or… you can share it with me."

"What?" he demanded, his eyes widening in palpable shock. "No, Bones."

"Why?" she countered, regarding him in amusement. "It makes sense, Booth. In the absence of an external heat source, sharing body heat is the most effective means of regulating our internal temperature."

Booth shook his head adamantly. "No, OK? No, no, no, no, no."

"Fine." Brennan unzipped her partner's sleeping bag, tossing it aside unceremoniously. "Then we can both freeze."

"You're acting like a three year old, Bones," Booth informed her angrily, heaving a long-suffering sigh.

"Well, I'm not the one whose priggish Catholic sensibilities are stopping them from taking a logical course of action that will ultimately benefit the both of us."

"You do realise that it's going to be a tight squeeze, right?"

"That's kind of the point, Booth," Brennan countered wryly.

"OK, fine, but you'd better not kick my ass if I end up… hugging you in my sleep or something," Booth informed her, his grin markedly transforming his pained countenance as he observed his partner's shocked expression. "What? I'm a cuddly kind of guy, Bones."

Brennan rolled her eyes, her lips twitching almost imperceptibly at the corners. She regarded him intently for a moment, and then reached for the sleeping bag she had just discarded, effortlessly shimmying back into it. "I would like to get a modicum of sleep tonight, Booth, so can you please hurry up?"

Booth swallowed prominently, and then cast another brief glance towards the heavens, this time praying for self-restraint. He zipped up his backpack, crawling towards his partner and manoeuvring himself awkwardly into the sleeping bag. He allowed himself a moment to acknowledge the bliss of its comparative warmth, and then focussed all of his energy on ignoring Bones' tantalising proximity - which wasn't an easy feat, given that he was a hair's breadth away from touching her. The space was cramped, and there were a scant few inches between them, rendering Booth terrified of shifting position lest he end up pressed flush against his partner's slender physique. Picturing Bones clad in her unbecoming thermal underwear wasn't helping, not when he could practically feel her breath sweeping across his cheek.

"Booth, your elbow is digging into my ribs," Brennan informed him bluntly.

"Yeah, well you wanted to share, Bones, so deal with it," he countered abruptly. To his utter astonishment, Bones wrapped her fingers around his wrist, turning onto her side and positioning his arm so it was draped snugly around her waist.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, and Brennan stiffened slightly.

"Dealing with it," she retorted wryly, but then her tone noticeably faltered. "Are you… I mean… is this OK?"

"Yeah… it's OK," Booth responded softly, throwing caution to the wind and scooting a little closer to his partner when he felt a violent shiver course through her. "C'mere, Bones," he whispered, pulling her gently towards him until they were practically spooning. "Better?" he asked, and she nodded sleepily, resting her hand on top of his and interlinking their fingers to allay the cold.

"Mmm… s'nice and warm," Brennan murmured with uncharacteristic ineloquence, heaving a contented sigh.

"Yeah, it is," Booth readily agreed, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he nestled comfortably against his partner. A few moment's later, he closed his eyes, content in the knowledge that at least one of his dreams had come true.


	6. Chapter 6

**_My bedroom's in the attic (and no, for those of you who have read 'Jane Eyre,' that does not hold any symbolic relevance - honestly), but it does mean that I don't have any overhead lighting. My desk lamp blew its fuse this weekend, which left me with a paltry 40-watt lamp to illuminate my entire room, so to allay the possibility of going blind, this chapter had to be a little shorter than usual, I'm afraid. It's still 3,300 words, though, which I suppose is a lot longer than your standard offering, so I hope it suffices. My focus has been a little skewed for the last couple of days, but with any luck, it'll still be up to scratch._**

**_Please let me know your thoughts :-)_**

**_Happy Birthday, Consuelo!_**

* * *

When Booth gradually stirred into wakefulness at 6.30am the next morning, the tent was still swathed in darkness and his partner's limp hand was lightly encircling his own. His heart instinctively began to pound at an accelerated pace when he realised that his face was buried in Bones' silken hair and his lips were resting millimetres away from the nape of her neck. Their ability to toss and turn was severely hindered by the constrictive nature of the sleeping bag, but Booth had expected to suffer through a restless night regardless. He was amazed that neither of them had shifted position in deference to the unyielding, jagged ground. If he was honest with himself, he'd expected Bones to find their proximity claustrophobic once she'd regained some semblance of warmth, but Brennan was still resting peacefully in his embrace, her breathing measured and even.

Despite the primitive circumstances, Booth's sleep had been deep and dreamless, and although his ravaged muscles were already protesting as a result of yesterday's exertions, he felt oddly rejuvenated. It didn't take long for a smile to illuminate his features and, hearing the Guides conversing in hushed tones outside of their tent, he knew it wouldn't be long before they set about rousing the reluctant campers. Acknowledging that he might only have a matter of minutes before this sacred moment was shattered, Booth decided to indulge himself and shifted a little closer towards his partner, melding his torso firmly against her back and allowing the floral fragrance of her hair - which was tinged with a lingering hint of wood smoke – to assail his senses. He heaved a happy sigh, and Bones murmured something unintelligible in her sleep, gripping his hand a little tighter. Booth had to stifle a snort when she commandeered his arm and adjusted the appendage until their entwined hands were tucked snugly under her chin… but then he realised that his forearm was lying diagonally across her breasts and he was powerless to stop his crotch from tightening pleasurably in response. A panicked expression crossed his face as he envisaged his partner waking up to find him pressed up against her with a raging hard-on, and he rapidly backed away again, gently trying to extricate himself from the potentially mortifying situation.

Realising that something was amiss in her warm, fuzzy world of contentment, Brennan gradually awoke from her fortifying slumber, blinking confusedly into the darkness. "Booth?" she murmured, her voice hoarse with uncertainty as she fought to establish her bearings.

Brennan heard her partner suck in a sharp breath and it didn't take her long to realise that Booth was desperately trying to liberate the arm that she was hugging tightly against her chest… the arm that was currently nestling comfortably between the valley of her breasts. Her cheeks turned crimson, and she promptly released her grip on Booth's hand. Unfortunately, Booth was still trying to tug it free at the time, and her unexpected acquiescence caused his fist to spring backwards and involuntarily collide with her jaw.

Brennan groaned and, within a matter of seconds, the torchlight was shining down on her. She scrunched her eyes up against the sudden onslaught of brightness, cradling her jaw and levelling a glare in her partner's direction, which rapidly intensified when she realised Booth's eyes were shining with merriment and he was making a concerted effort not to laugh.

"Morning Bones," Booth choked out, emitting an undignified snort. "Are you OK?"

Brennan muttered something incomprehensible in response, covering her face with her hands and adopting an expression of outrage when Booth gently prised them away again, leaning over her prostrate form until his megawatt grin invaded every corner of her bleary vision.

"Sorry, Bones. I didn't quite catch that."

"I said: that wasn't exactly the kind of wake up call I was anticipating," Brennan snapped, hoping to conceal her underlying embarrassment with anger.

"Oh come on, Bones, it was an accident!" Booth exclaimed, his tone laced with amusement. "I mean… I didn't actually hurt you, did I?" he inquired anxiously, his cheerfulness quickly evolving into concern as he cupped his partner's chin in his hand, tilting it upwards to survey the damage. Brennan gazed at him defiantly, flinching when he tenderly traced the outline of her jaw with his thumb.

"Booth, can you stop shining the torch in my eyes? I'm fine," she retorted flatly, promptly pulling away. It was too early in the morning to contend with the multitude of sensations her partner's touch elicited within her, especially when Booth seemed far from amenable to her - admittedly inadvertent - reciprocation. She wasn't sure whether she was more disconcerted by the pleasurable sensation of waking up in her partner's arms, or the fact that Booth had been urgently backing away from her at the time. Clearly, he'd been uncomfortable with the situation, and she turned onto her side to conceal her own discomfiture at his apparent rejection.

"You know, Bones, I never had you pegged for a snuggler," Booth informed her with a teasing grin, feeling markedly more at ease as he took in the sight of Brennan's adorably tousled appearance and her flustered demeanour.

Brennan's cheeks coloured slightly. "I was simply gravitating towards a heat source in an adversarial climate, Booth." She lowered her gaze, her tone becoming noticeably terse. "I'm sorry if that bothers you."

"Hey…" Booth reached out, placing his hand on the curve of his partner's slender waist. "I told you last night - it doesn't bother me, OK? Not at all."

"Well, you seemed remarkably keen to… extricate yourself… from our arrangement this morning," Brennan countered quietly, tension evident in her rigid frame.

"You know, normal people are supposed to have a stunted vocabulary first thing in the morning," Booth informed his partner wryly, "But what you just said… that's not true, Bones," he concluded earnestly. "We were both pretty tired last night and I guess… I wasn't sure whether… I just didn't want you to feel… uncomfortable when you woke up, that's all." He cleared his throat, a mischievous grin working its way across his features as he contemplated the best way of alleviating the strained atmosphere between them. "Honestly, Bones, if I'd known you were going to be so disappointed, I would've stayed put," he teased, poking her gently in the ribs.

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Clearly your ego has rendered you delusional, Booth," she noted acerbically, her tone dripping with condescension. "I was _not_ disappointed," she stated categorically, beginning to hurriedly disentangle herself from the sleeping bag, "I was _infuriated_ because you… you hit me."

"Well, it's not my fault you decided to use my hand as a chin rest," Booth countered, attempting to stall his partner's hasty departure by pulling the sleeping bag more tightly around them. He burst into laughter when Brennan wrenched the fabric forcefully out of his hands, practically giving him a friction burn in the process. "Jeez, you're really not a morning person, are you, Bones?"

Brennan folded her arms, eying him coldly. "No, Booth, unlike you, I'm not in the habit of instigating puerile antics first thing in the morning. You've clearly been spending too much time with Parker."

Within seconds of speaking the words, Brennan realised her mistake, and her stomach sank as she watched all traces of mirth rapidly fade from her partner's features.

"Booth… I'm sorry," she murmured, as he promptly desisted his attempts to trap her within the confines of the sleeping bag and rolled onto his side. She stayed regardless, and reached out to clasp his forearm. "I was just being facetious. I didn't mean to upset you…"

"I know," Booth assured her, eventually turning to appraise his partner with a small smile. The sparkle gradually returned to his eyes as he observed the precarious position of the sleeping cap on Bones' head, and he hastily plucked it away, starting to laugh when he saw the unkempt mass of hair beneath it. "OK, I'm thinking less Mary Ingalls, and more Stig of the Dump," he joked, and Brennan regarded his amused expression with a mixture of relief and indignation.

"I'm not sure where the analogy derives from, Booth, but I'm fairly certain that it isn't intended to be complimentary."

"It's just a book that Parker's reading in class at the moment," Booth informed her, his eyes conveying a mixture of enthusiasm and nostalgia. "He loves it so much, Rebecca bought him his own copy. He always brings it over to look at before bed."

"You read your son bedtime stories, Booth?" Brennan asked, looking faintly amused as she envisaged the scenario.

"Come on, it's not like we're talking 'Sleeping Beauty' or 'Cinderella,'" Booth said defensively. "It's a nice… manly… book."

"I'm sure it is," Brennan assured him in a patronising tone. "As long as you realise that children's literature is inherently deceptive and rife with idealism, regardless of which gender it's orientated to."

"OK, well next time Rebecca takes him to the library, I'll tell her to make a beeline for 'War and Peace,' OK?" Booth said sardonically, rolling his eyes.

"'War and Peace' is an epic saga with a litany of complex characters, Booth. It explores several profound philosophical issues and many adults struggle to engage with it in its entirety. It's hardly suitable reading for a child of Parker's age."

"Which is why I was being _sarcastic_, Bones," Booth retorted, shaking his head despairingly.

"Oh." Brennan looked faintly embarrassed for a moment, until Booth sent an indulgent smile in her direction.

"So… are you going to admit it?" he ventured after a moment's silence, and Brennan regarded the mischievous glint in his eyes suspiciously.

"Admit what, Booth?"

"Why you really wanted to share a sleeping bag with me?"

Brennan assumed a defensive posture, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Are you suggesting that I had an ulterior motive, Booth? Because I resent the implication that I would - "

"You know what, Bones?" Booth interjected, leaning towards her conspiratorially. "I think that you're secretly a sucker for my guy hugs," he announced triumphantly, impulsively wrapping his arms around Brennan's shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze to emphasise his point.

Brennan grunted in surprise, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she rested her hands against her partner's defined chest and half-heartedly tried to push him away. "Booth… this is juvenile and highly inappropriate behaviour… get off of me…" she huffed, trying desperately hard not to convulse with laughter when her partner obligingly relinquished his embrace, and opted to lightly tickle her ribs instead. She put up a valiant fight, attempting to conceal her voluminous grin with a disapproving frown as she forcefully batted his hands away.

"Was that a smile, Bones?" Booth demanded in disbelief, attacking her ribs with renewed gusto until she finally succumbed to the maddening sensation and began to laugh out loud.

"Booth, stop it," Brennan commanded a little breathlessly, capturing her partner's hands in her own and squeezing them warningly. Booth met her reproachful gaze and, recognising it for the front that it was, grinned at Bones disarmingly until her lips began to twitch at the corners and she broke into a radiant smile.

"Now, that's more like it," he observed happily. "Are you going to stop with the Little Miss Grouchy routine now?"

"That depends. Are you going to behave?" she asked softly, running her thumbs over her partner's weathered knuckles, and Booth nodded in amusement, effectively conceding defeat.

Brennan obligingly freed her partner's hands, and she was taken aback by the tender expression on Booth's face when he unexpectedly reached out to straighten her dishevelled hair. She was accustomed to her partner regarding her with affection, but for a fleeting moment his eyes seemed to flicker with something more and, although the emotion was ultimately indefinable, it still made her heart pound erratically against her ribcage. She swallowed nervously, lowering her gaze, and Booth cleared his throat, resting his hand lightly on her shoulder as he shrugged his way out of the sleeping bag.

"I'm gonna see if I can bribe one of the Guides into revealing the location of their coffee supply. You want one?" he asked, and she nodded gratefully.

"Please."

Brennan tried not to appraise her partner's jean-clad gluteus maximus as he crawled towards the front of their tent, but she was only human, after all… and Booth's attributes were becoming increasingly hard to overlook.

* * *

"OK, Bones, it's not exactly Starbucks, but it's better than… _Shit!_" The two mugs of coffee that Booth had expertly juggled in his left hand while he was unzipping the tent now tilted precariously to the side, spilling burning hot liquid over the sleeve of his sweater. Brennan promptly abandoned the task of dressing herself and rushed to her partner's aid, freeing the mugs from his unsteady grip and setting them on the floor of the tent.

"Are you OK? Did you burn yourself?" she demanded with concern, reaching out to examine his wrist, and Booth shook his head, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he desperately tried to avert his gaze from Bones' sensible sports bra, which, despite its modest design, was doing little to detract from the alluring fullness of her breasts or the way her taut nipples were reacting so prominently to the cold.

Knowing that his already overactive imagination was liable to spontaneously combust if it was given any more fuel, Booth ducked his head slightly, only to find himself drinking in the expanse of smooth, luminescent skin that formed the intoxicating sight of his partner's flat, toned stomach.

"Booth, you're letting all the cold air in," Brennan reprimanded her partner, yanking him inside and hurriedly zipping the tent shut. Shivering violently, she quickly reached for her long-sleeved T-shirt, hastily pulling it over her head. She added a sweatshirt and a fleece to the ensemble and then handed her partner his coffee, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Booth, it's OK, I'm fully clothed now," she informed him wryly. "You don't have to stare at the floor anymore."

Booth's cheeks coloured slightly, and he pulled a face as he took a tentative sip of the thick, black concoction. "OK, that's the last time I give this stuff the benefit of the doubt," he concluded, forcing himself to swallow the bitter liquid without gagging.

"It's just as well, considering that you spilled most of it outside," Brennan remarked sardonically, and Booth regarded her with a sheepish grin.

"Well, you've got to give a guy a little warning if you're planning on stripping off in his tent, Bones."

"Oh, come on, Booth, I was hardly indecent," Brennan objected, rolling her eyes. "I can't believe I ever complimented you on your lack of Puritan modesty."

"Yeah, well you might think it's fine to barge in on people when they're butt naked in their bathroom, Bones, but I have… boundaries… OK? I respect people's privacy."

"You didn't have boundaries when you were ogling that woman at the gym during the Tommy Sawyer case, Booth."

"I wasn't _ogling_ her, I was… appreciating her physique and besides, in that kind of environment, people _want_ to be noticed…"

"You do realise that you're just playing with semantics, Booth? I fail to see why you would be flustered in this situation when I'm sure you've seen plenty of women in a much more advanced state of undress before."

"Yeah, but it's not the same. You're my partner, Bones, not my girlfriend," Booth countered, and he was shocked to see the look of hurt that briefly swept across Brennan's features.

"I understand, Booth," she informed him quietly. "Obviously, you see me as an asexual being, some kind of robot in a lab coat, and it makes you uncomfortable when you encounter evidence to the contrary. That's probably why you have such an aversion to me discussing my sexual exploits, too." She began to fold up her pyjamas and place them neatly in her backpack. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Booth. I didn't expect you to come back so quickly, but I'll… change in my own tent from now on," she murmured, skilfully evading his gaze.

"Bones…" Booth edged towards her, gently stilling her fumbling hands. "Have you forgotten what I wrote on that list already?" he demanded, gazing at her expectantly until she showed some signs of recognition. "I don't think you're a robot in a lab coat, OK? You're an amazing _woman_, Bones, and I care about you a hell of a lot more than you probably realise, but you're my partner, too, and that means I'm not… I'm not supposed to notice how… attractive you are," he informed her haltingly, and Brennan regarded him intently.

"Not supposed to?" she echoed, her tone a mixture of confusion and something that sounded suspiciously akin to hope.

"It doesn't mean to say that I… that I don't," Booth confirmed quietly, studying her features intently. "Do you understand what I'm saying, Bones?"

Brennan nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly as she searched her partner's probing gaze. "I think so."

They both quietened down when they heard the unmistakeable timbre of Alex's voice penetrating the otherwise peaceful morning. Her words were indistinguishable, but her tone was laced with idiosyncratic contempt.

"Well, last night doesn't seem to have had a lasting impact on her," Booth noted sarcastically, welcoming the opportunity to change the conversation.

"Are you going to apologise to her?" Brennan asked, and Booth shook his head vehemently.

"No way. Everyone's got a sob story to tell, Bones, but that's no excuse for projecting your misery and insecurities onto everyone else. We choose who we become and Alex… well, she made the wrong choice."

"You make her sound like a monster, Booth," Brennan observed, sounding faintly incredulous.

Booth shrugged. "Well, everything's relative, Bones. She hurt you, and until she apologises, she is a monster as far as I'm concerned."

"Booth…" Brennan objected, her lips starting to crease at the corners. "Doesn't that violate the doctrine of forgiveness or something?"

"I'm serious, Bones," Booth stated quietly, his expression disconcertingly intense. "You've been through a hell of a lot more than Alex has and you don't bitch, or moan. I know you hate the stereotype, but there aren't a lot of foster kids who go on to become the finest in their field, let alone a best selling author to boot. The odds were stacked against you, Bones, but you sucked it up and you accomplished more than anyone could've ever dreamed of." His eyes darkened, and he shook his head angrily. "And don't ever think that callous bitch is justified in trying to undermine your achievements, just because she had a kick in the teeth at some point in the distant past."

Brennan hadn't anticipated her partner's passionate response and her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears when she finally mustered the courage to seek out his gaze. Her formative years, despite her academic excellence, had been largely devoid of praise. The teachers who publicly commended her talent only set her up to be mocked and derided by her peers, and her foster parents had been unfailingly apathetic. Even when she managed to win the acclaim of virtual strangers, it wasn't the same as being told that she was special by someone who mattered to her, someone who she knew would still be there if she failed, as well as succeeded. Knowing that Booth was prepared to defend her honour in the face of adversity meant more to her than her guise of independence would ever allow her to convey. She didn't know if she could trust her voice to remain steady, so she offered her partner a tremulous smile instead, hoping to convey her gratitude.

"You ready to go and grab some breakfast?" Booth asked, his eyes warm with understanding, and she nodded, crawling out of the tent alongside him. He offered her his hand as they traversed the threshold, hauling her to her feet, and she didn't relinquish her grasp until they were in full view of the others. Then Booth's hand fell to the small of her back, leaving no doubt that in this disparate group of so-called partners, they were the only ones who were inextricably linked.


	7. Chapter 7

The Night Before The Morning After…

Alex had shed a copious amount of tears in the restroom, and after being the obligatory shoulder to cry on, Teresa had been reluctant to relinquish her position in the tent she was sharing with her friend. However, Alex had reassured her that the most effective means of cheering her up would be to knock Brennan and Booth off the top of the leader board, and Teresa had obligingly sauntered over to Otis's tent in a bid to secure their three points. Dean was left with no choice but to vacate his lot, and he had trudged towards Sergio's sleeping quarters with an air of resignation, knowing that a night of strained silence - punctuated by the pounding bass of his partner's I-pod – awaited him.

It was a testimony to Alex's competitive streak that she had actually allowed a wary Bob to traverse the threshold of her tent, pointedly spraying her expensive perfume in his wake. She had positioned herself as far away from her partner's immense form as the confines of the tent would allow her to, and had actually managed to drift into a restless sleep… until she had been assailed by a blast of cold air, and the sounds of Bob relieving himself in the vicinity of their tent became disturbingly apparent. Alex had flicked on the torch so her partner was able to see the full extent of her disgust when he returned, but she had been rendered momentarily speechless by the repugnant sight of Bob fumbling to tuck himself back into his misshapen grey boxer shorts. The stomach-churning encounter had left her feeling nauseous and after regaining her composure, she hadn't wasted any time in expressing her distaste – at quite an impressive volume.

Bob had made a valiant effort to defend his honour by pointing out that he'd been chivalrous enough not to pee in a bottle within the confines of the tent itself. That assertion had been enough to send Alex over the edge, and Bob's forcible eviction had sent echoes of hysterical laughter reverberating around the clearing. Teresa had tried desperately hard not to join her partner in his guffaws of amusement, but Otis' mirth was contagious and she'd eventually succumbed to the inevitable.

Still, knowing that Alex would be in a foul mood if she didn't have the opportunity to air her grievances in front of a sympathetic audience, Teresa had eventually made to leave, but Otis had been surprisingly effective at cajoling her to stay. The short-haired brunette had to concede that her partner was a relatively unobtrusive bunkmate. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of the chipmunk that had decided to use the roof of their tent as a playground.

Dean, meanwhile, had rapidly discovered that his partner's stoic reticence was prone to finding an outlet in his sleep. Sergio had attempted to instigate several inchoate conversations with him while in the throes of slumber, and Dean had been forced to stay awake in a bid to dodge his flailing limbs. Eventually, the need for self-preservation won out, and he'd gathered up his meagre belongings and requisitioned one of the empty tents.

* * *

The FBI prided itself on presenting well-groomed employees, but last night's histrionics had clearly taken their toll. The Agents sitting around the campfire were picking at their breakfasts in subdued silence, and their dishevelled demeanours were a far cry from the impeccable facade they usually projected. Formal dress pants and skirts had been traded for worn and wrinkled sweats; tailored shirts and blouses had been replaced with cumbersome fleeces and pullovers, and their previously coiffed hair was matted and unkempt. Sandra and Mark were the only partners who appeared none the worse for wear. Everyone else looked like they'd been on an unremitting stakeout.

Sandra levelled a smile in Brennan and Booth's direction as they joined the lethargic group around the campfire. "Morning," she said brightly, watching them sink onto a log besides each other with barely an inch of space between them.

"Morning," Booth replied politely, but a little coolly, surprised to see his partner smiling warmly at the older woman as she offered her own greeting.

"You two look remarkably well-rested," Sandra noted jovially, and she was visibly taken aback when Booth glanced at her sharply.

"Just what exactly are you insinuating, Sandy?" he asked, purposefully keeping his tone light, rather than accusatory.

"Booth!" Brennan hissed, jabbing him in the ribs before sending an apologetic smile in Sandra's direction. "I'm sorry, he's not really a morning person," she explained sheepishly, and Sandra nodded, shrugging slightly.

"Don't worry about it. I don't think anyone's fighting fit this morning."

"Bones, have you been reading those self-help books again?" Booth demanded under his breath, "Because I'm not sure if I like your new strategy for dealing with our resident coven. What are you trying to do now? Kill them with kindness?"

Brennan shook her head, realising his misunderstanding. "No, Booth. Sandra isn't like the others," she murmured. "She didn't participate when they were disparaging me yesterday, she spoke in my favour."

"Oh." Rapidly re-evaluating his assessment of the stout, but agreeable looking woman, Booth nudged her gently with his elbow. "You're looking pretty bright-eyed and bushy-tailed yourself," he observed, glancing in Mark's direction. "I take it Simmons decided to stay in his own sleeping quarters last night?"

Mark laughed, shaking his head. "No, we bonded over some custard creams and I gave her my last Rolo, so we're best-friends-forever now," he joked, slapping his partner companionably on the thigh. "The way to this woman's heart is most definitely though her stomach."

Sandra rolled her eyes, but given that Mark's tone was affectionate, rather than disdainful, she let the jibe slide. "Yeah, we've progressed to a dealer-junkie kind of relationship now," she deadpanned, and Booth snorted in amusement.

"So you've acknowledged that your partnership is one of mutual dependency?" Brennan ventured, her expression curious.

Sandra started to laugh. "Well, I wouldn't go that far."

"Yeah, I don't think that's really what she meant, Bones," Booth informed his partner wryly.

"God, Dr Brennan, please don't start with the psychobabble. We get enough of that from Sweets," Mark interposed, and Brennan regarded him confusedly.

"I don't place any credence in Psychology. I was merely pertaining to the logistics of supply and demand."

Mark looked utterly bewildered. "OK, then," he muttered, and Booth eyed him coldly.

"What's the matter, Simmons? Are we functioning on a plane that's a little too high for you?"

"You mean a higher plane, Booth?" Brennan corrected him, and Booth rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, Bones."

"What's with the whole 'Bones' thing, anyway?" Mark asked, and Booth sighed.

"It's pretty self-explanatory, Simmons."

"It's a sobriquet," Brennan informed him, and Booth turned to regard her in puzzlement.

"OK, you've got to stop with the big words, Bones. What the hell does that mean?" he demanded.

"A sobriquet is an affectionate nickname, Booth. I used to think you called me 'Bones' purely to antagonise me, but given that our relationship has progressed a great deal since then, I now presume that it's more akin to a… term of endearment," she concluded, looking faintly embarrassed.

Booth's lips quirked into a soft smile. "It is, Bones," he assured her, quickly realising that Sandra was watching their exchange with avid interest. "So, Bob made it safely through the night, then?" he remarked conversationally, quickly changing the subject.

Sandra snorted. "Barely. Don't tell me you slept through that ruckus?" When she saw Booth's baffled expression, Sandra shook her head in disbelief. "Well, you must have been well and truly out of it, then, because Alex was shrieking at the top of her God-given lungs."

Brennan leaned forwards, her face a picture of interest. "Why, what happened?"

Sandra started to laugh. "Bob got up to take a leak and let's just say his aim was a little too close for comfort. Alex accused him of pissing all over the side of the tent…"

"But I think she was more concerned about the eyeful she got when he crawled back into it again," Mark concluded, and they all started to laugh.

The young Agent was struck by the change in the Anthropologist's demeanour. His initial impression had been that she looked a little severe, but when she smiled, she was unequivocally stunning. He leant forwards, his expression attentive. "So, Dr Brennan, are you seeing anyone?"

"Oh God, you really don't have any shame, do you?" Sandra lamented, rolling her eyes and fighting to conceal her smile as she watched Booth edge possessively towards his partner.

Brennan glanced around the group, her expression flummoxed. "I imagine I'm seeing precisely the same people that you are, Agent Simmons."

Mark frowned, struggling to comprehend her supposedly abstruse statement. "What, so you're like… a lesbian or something?"

Brennan shook her head confusedly. "What? No. I have a friend who recently re-discovered her latent lesbian tendencies, but my proclivities have always been of a heterosexual nature."

"Bones, he's hitting on you," Booth hissed exasperatedly. "He wants to know if you're _dating_ anyone."

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that your question was somewhat incongruous given the social context. No, I'm not seeing anyone, figuratively speaking." She glanced furtively at her partner who, for some inexplicable reason, looked angry.

"Really?" Mark inquired, his interest evidently piqued. "Maybe you and I could get a drink when this thing is over, then?"

Brennan looked faintly amused. "I thought that privilege had already been extended to Jenny? Or are you planning to proposition every female you happen to encounter along the way?"

Sandra started to laugh. "I think the good Doctor is trying to tell you that she's not interested in becoming another notch on your bedpost, Mark."

"Yep," Booth emphatically agreed.

"Oh well… your loss," Mark stated with forced geniality, and Brennan eyed him intently.

"I very much doubt it."

"Yeah, it's not like we're ever going to be on the same wavelength anyway, right?" Mark remarked offhandedly and Sandra, seeing the hurt that briefly registered on Brennan's features, glanced at her partner sharply.

"Idiots and geniuses don't tend to mix well," she informed him matter-of-factly, and he clutched his chest as though he had been mortally wounded.

"Fine, if that's how you feel, maybe I should go and sit with people who appreciate my wit and charm."

"Bye, then," Sandra retorted, laughing good-naturedly as she waved at her partner with exaggerated emphasis.

Mark stuck out his tongue, and then moved away from them to sit alongside Dean.

"Excuse me for a moment," Brennan murmured, sensing an opportune moment to take a trip to the restroom. She clambered to her feet, briefly setting her hand on her partner's shoulder, and Booth watched her progress for a moment before turning his attention to Sandra.

"I think I owe you an apology," he murmured, and she glanced at him quizzically.

"What, for this morning? Don't worry about it, Booth. God knows I'm like a bear with a sore head sometimes."

Booth snorted, but then shook his head sombrely. "No, I mean it, Sandy. I have my reservations about the company you keep, but I shouldn't tar you with the same brush," he informed her earnestly.

"Alex and Teresa… they're not so bad, once you get to know them," Sandra reasoned, shaking her head ruefully. "I mean, sure, they can be a handful sometimes, especially when they're bouncing off each other, but I try to stay on their good side for the sake of an easy life, you know? I don't want to give them a cause to sink their claws into me."

"But you stood up for my partner in the restroom yesterday," Booth noted, eyeing her intently. "That means a lot to me."

Sandra's expression was one of genuine consternation. "Oh my God, Booth. She was in there?" she gasped, shaking her head despairingly when Booth ducked his head in acknowledgement. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea." Sandra's eyes filled with sorrow as she mentally replayed the scathing conversation she had been party to. "Is she OK?" she demanded, and Booth hesitated, before nodding.

"I knew something was bothering her as soon as we sat down for lunch, but it took me hours to drag it out of her," he admitted, his eyes shining in the glare of the emerging sun. "She's made of tough stuff, Sandy, but she isn't made of stone. And if they drag her down like that again, I swear…" he trailed off, and Sandra laid a hand on his forearm.

"Look, if it's any consolation, I think Alex and Teresa really listened to what she said last night, and if that didn't change their perspective… well, then they're obviously not worth the effort, Booth." She nudged him companionably. "Besides, from what I've heard, that partner of yours is more than capable of handling herself."

Booth nodded, his eyes brimming with pride. "Yeah, she is. I just wish… that it didn't have to be so hard for her all the time, you know? She deserves better than that."

Sandra studied him attentively. "You really think the world of her, don't you?"

Booth snorted derisively, his expression suddenly guarded. "I've heard Alex and Teresa's little theory about that, too."

"Well, screw them, Booth, because whatever the hell it is that you two have, we all envy it. I'd give anything to click with Mark the way you click with her."

Booth started to laugh, imagining Sandra and Mark curled up within the confines of a double sleeping bag. "You seem to be getting along a hell of a lot better than you were yesterday," he noted, and Sandra shrugged nonchalantly.

"Yeah, but it doesn't come naturally. Now, when he opens his mouth, I just _think_ 'shut up,' instead of actually saying it. You think that's progress?"

Booth shrugged, his laughter intensifying. "Well, it's a start."

Meandering her way back towards the clearing, Brennan observed her partner from a distance, quickly discerning his easy camaraderie with the other members of the group. Booth was an intensely private person, but he still had little difficultly integrating with a crowd. Sandra's hand was resting on his forearm and she was laughing profusely at something he'd said, and Otis Lewis was calling to him from the other side of the campfire in a good-natured tone. She wondered whether her presence was forcing Booth to the fringes of the group when he could feasibly be at its centre; whether her inability to understand the Agents' often colloquial vernacular was impeding his interaction with the others. It hadn't taken long for Mark to abandon his attempts at conversation with them, and even though Sandra had been kind enough to imply that it was because her intelligence quotient was markedly higher than the young Agent's, it still reinforced the notion that she was a separate entity, someone who didn't 'mix well' with the others.

Booth sent her a warm smile when she sank back down besides him, and she was acutely aware of the way his muscular thigh brushed lightly against her own. The knot in her stomach eased slightly as she acknowledged his welcoming demeanour, but she was somewhat surprised when Sandra turned to appraise her with an equally convivial expression.

"That speech you gave last night was amazing, Dr Brennan," the older woman informed her, feeling her heartstrings tug slightly when she realised the Anthropologist was cautiously searching her face for any signs of sarcasm. "I think what you do is fascinating. In fact, I'd love to read some of your books to get a better insight into how everything works at that lab of yours."

Brennan offered Sandra a tentative smile. "Thank you. While my novels are categorised as fiction - and I was persuaded by my editor to include some sensationalist elements - I do try to accurately portray the processes involved in crime-solving."

Sandra watched as Brennan's eyes roved fleetingly towards her partner, and she tapped the Anthropologist lightly on the knee to recapture her attention.

"He thinks a lot of you, you know?" she whispered, and Brennan gazed at her quizzically.

"How can you possibly know what Booth's thinking at any given time?" she whispered back. "Are you claiming to be clairvoyant?"

Sandra snorted, thankfully able to ascertain that Brennan wasn't being derogatory, she was just genuinely confused. "Nah, it doesn't take a mind reader to figure that one out, Dr Brennan. I just meant that he cares about you a lot, that's all."

"Oh." Brennan's cheeks turned slightly pink. "Booth is a very good partner," she announced, a little more loudly than she'd intended, and Booth started to laugh, looping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

"Aw, thanks, Bones. Right back at ya."

* * *

Trying to avoid the group's wrath for as long as possible, the Guides neglected to tell the Agents the nature of their upcoming task. Still, their attempts to forestall the groans of dissent were rapidly vanquished when they revealed that they would be hiking for a couple of miles to get to their destination. The Agents were like the walking dead, trudging along in abject silence, and Brennan and Booth shot amused glances at each other as they moved ahead of the pack.

Alex increased her pace to intercept Simon, breaking her vow of silence in a bid to persuade the Guide to add at least one point to their tally, reasoning that she had made a valiant effort to tolerate Bob's presence before he ultimately pushed her to breaking point. She flirted to the best of her ability, but when Simon categorically refused to enhance her score, sardonically informing her that she was 'a real fucking martyr,' she fell back into step with Teresa, her face a picture of petulance.

"Booth, you're favouring your left leg in a manner that would suggest your sciatic nerve is suffering undue pressure. Is you back bothering you?" Brennan demanded, and Booth turned to regard her in amusement.

"Are you staring at my ass, Bones?"

"What? No! The sciatic nerve is the longest and widest singular nerve in the body," Brennan informed him, somewhat defensively. "The posterior region is just one of the many areas it serves. It runs from the lumbar plexus and sacral plexus to - "

"I get the picture, Bones," Booth interjected, smiling wryly, "And I'm aching in places that God never intended a man to ache, but I'm trying to walk it off, OK?"

"I told you we shouldn't have jogged down that hill yesterday."

"Well, if I remember rightly, you were pretty pleased with the outcome, Bones," Booth reminded her pointedly, his lips curving into a smile. "Besides, I'd probably be faring a lot better if you hadn't fallen on top of me!"

"You were propelling me along at a momentum that vastly exceeded my capabilities. It was inevitable that my equilibrium would be effected!"

"It was fun though, right?" Booth ventured, extending a hand to his partner to help her climb over a patch of uneven terrain. She pointedly ignored it, and he affected an expression of umbrage. "Oh come on, Bones, you just admitted that your balance is skewed."

"I did not! There were mitigating factors, if you bothered to listen." Her lips began to quirk at the corners. "But yes, I had a great deal of fun."

Their eyes locked, and they traded warm smiles, shifting their attention to Simon when he moved to the front of the group.

"OK, listen up, everyone!" The authoritative Guide hollered, placing his palms upwards in a stalling motion. Everyone ground to an abrupt halt, practically tripping over each other in the process. "We're going to take you off in pairs to tackle an assault course in a moment – "

"Oh, well, that's just great!" Alex exclaimed angrily. "Look, this isn't an exercise in team-building, it's an exercise in fucking humiliation, OK? I mean, you may as well just fail us now, because how the hell am I supposed to excel at anything when I'm working with someone who's about to collect their retirement fund?"

"Thank you for that self-pitying little outburst, Agent Johnson, it was very helpful," Simon informed her scathingly, "However, if you'd bothered to let me finish, I would've told you that this exercise isn't about fitness or stamina, it's about effective communication and resolving the issues that many of you seem to have when it comes to trusting your partners. Only one of you will be completing the assault course – but, as always, there's a kicker…" He paused to allow the suspense to accumulate. "The person in question will be blindfolded at the time, and your partner will be acting as your eyes," he concluded with aplomb.

"Surely that's a contravention of health and safety guidelines or something? I mean, what exactly does this assault course comprise of?" Otis demanded, and Simon regarded them all with what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.

"Well, it would kind of defeat the object if I told you, right?" he replied blithely. "Don't worry, all of us are trained in administering first aid, and we've got an emergency recovery unit on speed dial, OK?"

"Yeah, because that makes us feel so much better," Sandra countered, rolling her eyes.

"Remember what I said, people? We try to foster a positive mental attitude around here. Don't knock it until you've tried it." Simon took a deep breath, surveying the group thoughtfully. "We've already determined which one of you will be kept in the dark, so to speak, and before you start picking apart our motives, you should know that our decisions were based purely upon who we think is the least trusting of the pair in question. So…" he announced, clapping his hands, "Who wants to go first?"

There was a resounding silence.

"Come on guys, either you choose, or I will."

Seeing that no one was willing to step up to the plate, Booth gently nudged his partner's shoulder. "What do you say, Bones? Shall we give it a shot?" He studied Brennan's expression worriedly; she looked a lot more perturbed by the task than he'd anticipated, but she nodded in agreement nevertheless.

They stepped forwards simultaneously, and Simon regarded them with a pathetically grateful expression.

"Great, thanks guys," he said sincerely, before turning to address the rest of the group. "OK, now, each team is going to start with ten points, but you stand to lose them pretty quickly if you don't follow the ground rules that I'm about to layout, so please listen carefully." He checked to ensure he had the Agents' undivided attention.

"The aim is to _verbally _guide your partner around the course. You're not allowed to touch or lead them in any way, unless they're in immediate danger. You'll lose points if you fail to tackle any of the obstacles, or if your partner stumbles or falls as a result of inadequate instructions. Now, I don't usually have to say this, but I think it would be prudent for me to mention that if, at any point, it looks like you're intentionally misleading your partner in the hope of causing them some form of embarrassment or injury, you will be disqualified and sent back to camp with a grand total of nil points. Capisce?"

"Booth, why is he speaking Italian?" Brennan whispered, and Booth started to laugh.

"It's just another movie reference, Bones, don't worry about it."

"Are you two ready?" Simon asked, and they nodded obligingly. "OK, Dr Brennan, if you'd like to step forwards then, please."

Brennan cast an apprehensive glance at her partner and her eyes widened slightly when Simon pulled an opaque black blindfold out of his knapsack. "Are you sure you've undertaken the requisite safety measures?" she asked the Guide, her tone inexplicably anxious. "And why do you assume that I'm less trusting than Booth? He's a private and solitary person, too."

"Bones, it's OK," Booth assured her, his hand automatically resting against the small of her back. "You know I'm not going to let anything happen to you, right?"

Brennan hesitated, her eyes flickering over the planes of her partner's concerned features as she slowly dipped her head in acquiescence.

Seeing that Simon was poised to place the blindfold over his partner's head, Booth placed a hand on his arm. "I'll do it," he said, taking the scrap of material from him. "Can you fix your ponytail a little lower, Bones?" he asked, his brow furrowing when he observed the faint tremors running through his partner's graceful fingers as she did so. "OK, close your eyes," he murmured, gently placing the fabric over Bones' eyes and knotting the fastenings securely behind her head. "Is that OK? It's not too tight?"

Brennan shook her head, swallowing prominently as she absorbed the disconcerting sensation of being plunged into unrelenting darkness. She felt her partner's hands rubbing her shoulders reassuringly, but she couldn't help but jump slightly when Simon's booming voice drowned out the murmurs of the crowd.

"The rest of you are going to have to stay here, I'm afraid. You can't watch until you've completed your own rotations, for obvious reasons, but once you're through to the other side, as long as you keep the heckling to a minimum, you're more than welcome to have a good laugh at everyone else's expense," he said wryly. "Now, this task _will_ be timed, but I want everyone to take as long as they need. The partners with the fastest completion time will get a bonus point at the end, but it's what you do on the course itself that really counts. Obviously, the more points you retain, the greater your chance of winning." He clapped his hands again, and this time Brennan visibly flinched.

"I know you must be going through sensory overload, Bones, but I'm not going anywhere, OK? I'm right here," Booth murmured, his hands still firmly affixed to his partner's shoulders. She leant into his touch, barely perceptibly, and he tightened his grip a little.

"OK, you two, follow me," Simon urged. "Agent Booth, feel free to lead Dr Brennan until we get to the clearing where the course has been set up."

"Good luck, man," Otis called, and Booth sent a long-suffering grin in his direction.

"Yeah, thanks, Lewis." He laid his hand against the small of his partner's back, ushering her forwards. "Come on, Bones, it's mostly even ground up ahead. Just grab my arm if you feel unsteady, and I'll watch out for any potholes, OK?"

Brennan didn't reply, she merely nodded, her physique rigid with tension as she moved haltingly forwards. They shuffled along at a dilatory pace, and Booth was quick to notice that his partner's breathing was inexplicably shallow. Seeing Simon veering towards a sharp bend, he wrapped his arm securely around Bones' waist, tucking her against his side. "What's wrong?" he whispered, and though he wouldn't have thought it possible, Brennan stiffened still further.

"I'm sure everyone has an aversion to feeling helpless, Booth," she responded tersely.

"But you trust me, right? To take care of you?" Booth ventured, his tone laced with uncertainty.

Brennan heaved a ragged sigh, before briefly settling her head against her partner's shoulder. "Of course, I do. It doesn't mean to say I have to like it though," she informed him, her lips twisting into a grim smile.

"Oh."

Brennan felt the ripple of disappointment course through her partner's solid frame and quickly realised her mistake. "Booth, there is no way anybody could have coerced me into putting this on if you weren't here," she assured him, "But there were times in the past… before I knew you… when I… I…" she drew out a frustrated breath, shaking her head. "I just don't like having my control taken away from me, that's all."

Booth froze, forcing Brennan to a standstill. "Bones, there's something you're not telling me here, isn't there? I mean… did… did someone hurt you? Because we don't have to do this, you know? Not if it's going to make you feel uncomfortable." He reached for the blindfold, intending to remove it - needing to see her eyes, but as soon as Brennan felt his hand settle against her forehead, she reached out to grasp it tightly.

"It's OK," she assured him, oblivious to the myriad of conflicting emotions that were plaguing his troubled features. "I just – "

"Come on, guys, we're on a tight schedule here," Simon interjected impatiently, emerging from the dense foliage and beckoning Booth to hurry up. Booth hesitated, and Brennan aimed herself in the direction of the Guide's voice, knowing that her partner would follow her if she began to walk towards him.

Shortly thereafter, Booth's hand settled in the crook of her elbow, and Brennan forced herself to focus on her partner's comforting proximity as she was guided - without incident - towards the beginning of the assault course.

"OK, Agent Booth, you can let go of her now," Simon informed him, and Booth glanced around the assault course with a sense of trepidation. Some of the obstacles wouldn't have looked out of place at an army base, and he forced himself to swallow his apprehension in favour of mapping out the most practicable route around the apparatus. At least Jenny and Ross were poised to offer their assistance if required, and he nodded when they sent an encouraging wave in his direction.

"Right, let's get this show on the road," Simon announced cheerfully. "Dr Brennan, I'm going to spin you around a little now, so brace yourself, OK?" he added in a placating tone, and Booth had to bite back his protests when the Guide gripped his partner's shoulders and rotated Brennan 360 degrees several times over.

"Jenny you can start the stopwatch…. now!" Simon hollered, promptly releasing Brennan from his grasp. Booth instinctively reached out to steady her when she lurched to the side, and Simon started to laugh uproariously.

"One point down already, Agent Booth," the Guide informed him ruefully.

"What?" Booth demanded, his tone outraged, "But – "

"No touching, Agent Booth, unless they're in immediate danger, remember? A little dizziness doesn't count, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, but – "

"Booth! You're wasting time," Brennan snapped, extending an arm with the intention of nudging him pointedly, and then clearly thinking better of it. "Just tell me what I've got to do."

"OK, well you're facing the wrong way for a start, Bones. You're going to have to pivot 180 degrees first."

Brennan obliged, and Booth eyed the initial obstacle warily. "Now, sidestep about a foot to your right and then take eight paces forwards," he instructed, pleased with his estimation when Brennan's strides brought her parallel with the netting that was raised a foot or so above the leafy ground.

"That's the ticket, Bones," he praised, pleased to see his partner visibly relaxing as she applied all of her focus to the task at hand. "Now, directly in front of you, there's a piece of netting that's not far from the floor, so you're going to have to lie flat on your stomach, keep your head down and use your elbows to propel yourself forwards, OK?"

"Like this?" Brennan asked, wincing as she pressed her lithe form flush against the freezing cold ground, feeling the lingering frost seeping through her insulated sweatpants as she shuffled forwards.

"Yep, you're doing great." Booth grinned as he watched his partner effortlessly following his directions, shimmying under the net like a true pro. "You've only got another couple of feet to go, Bones. Just make sure you don't get tangled up at the end there."

Brennan groped above her head until she felt nothing but thin air, and then hauled herself to her feet again.

"You OK?" Booth asked, his tone brimming with a mixture of affection and concern, and Brennan levelled a reassuring smile in his general direction.

"I'm fine, Booth. What's next?"

"OK, there's a big cargo net that's got to be at least 25 feet high - you know, the ones that are arranged in a triangular shape, where you go up one side and down the other?"

Brennan nodded, indicating that she understood.

"If you sidestep about five paces to the right and then walk forwards about ten, you should be able to reach out and touch it."

Brennan complied, keeping her arms outstretched.

Booth started to laugh. "You look like an extra from Night of the Living Dead, Bones."

"I don't think that really holds any relevance right now, Booth."

Duly chastised, Booth attempted to regain his composure. "You're almost there Bones, just another couple of inches. Don't walk face first into it, whatever you do."

Brennan finally grasped the abrasive rope in her right hand, and then promptly fumbled for a higher handhold.

"The rungs are about half a foot apart, spaced evenly," Booth informed her, his tone becoming markedly more serious as he watched his partner extend her lower leg until she found a foothold. "Just please… be careful, Bones, OK? It's pretty high."

Jenny and Ross were on hand acting as pseudo spotters, but Booth stood at the base of the net regardless, ready to spring into action if Brennan required assistance. He leant his weight against the imposing structure in an attempt to stop the net from swaying too violently in the breeze, and his eyes avidly followed his partner's… progress.

"You're going to hit the wood at the top in a second, Bones, and then you're going to have to straddle it and swing yourself over to the other side."

Brennan nodded, her stomach churning as she subliminally acknowledged how far away she was from the solid ground. Depending on her trajectory, if she fell, her injuries would be severe - if not life threatening. The breeze was rushing through her ears and billowing against her cheeks, causing the net to rustle disconcertingly beneath her hands, but she clung fast, and fought to control her erratic breathing. Her heart skipped a beat when she reached for the next rung, only to find her hand flailing against icy air. She brought it downwards until it connected somewhat jarringly with the beam of wood looming above her and then she bit her lip, suddenly tentative. "Booth…" she called uncertainly, and he turned to regard the Guides imploringly.

"It's not breaking the rules if I get up there with her, right? Not if I don't touch her?"

Jenny shook her head. "No, Agent Booth, that's fine."

"Just hang on for a second, Bones, I'm coming up." Booth wasted little time in negotiating the cargo net and within a matter of seconds, he was parallel with his partner. Seeing her barely-concealed distress, he leant forwards, his lips resting inches away from her ear. "Hey, it's OK. I'm right here Bones," he murmured, utilising every ounce of his willpower not to reach out and wrap an arm around her waist. "You're doing great," he assured her, and her lips curved into a barely perceptible smile.

"How wide is the beam, Booth?"

"It's a little under a foot. If you climb up a couple more rungs, you'll be able to get a better grip on it."

Brennan obliged, wrapping her arms securely around the weathered wood and leaning the top half of her torso firmly against it.

"That's it, Bones. Now, leave your right leg anchored in the rung, and then swing your left leg up and over. Ross and Jenny are down there, but I'm not going to let you fall, I promise."

Brennan nodded, suddenly feeling foolish. "I'm finding this task somewhat demeaning," she murmured despairingly, and Booth was relieved that she couldn't see the grin that suddenly graced his features.

"Well… I'm kind of enjoying bossing you around for a change," he joked, and Brennan's taut features gradually relaxed into a smile.

"Don't get used to it, Booth," she asserted, manoeuvring herself over the A-frame with effortless grace, almost as if to prove a point.

Booth grinned. "That's my girl," he murmured, watching Brennan making quick work of her dismount.

"You're almost at the bottom Bones, so slow down or else you're going to jar yourself when your leg hits the floor," he warned.

For once in her life, Brennan heeded his advice, and Booth smiled as he hastily navigated the wood beam himself, inwardly acknowledging that it was one lucky, lucky tree to have had his partner sitting astride it.

"OK, onwards and upwards, Bones. Sidestep six paces to the left, then move forward twel – STOP," he yelled, as Brennan teetered on the precipice of a man-made trench that was filled with water.

Brennan abruptly ground to a halt, instinctively shifting backwards, and Booth heaved a sigh of relief.

"OK, Bones, in front of you there's a dugout that's around fifteen feet long, and five feet wide," Booth informed her. "It looks like it's pretty deep, too, so we're gonna try and make sure you don't fall in the water, OK? I don't want you getting hypothermia."

"That would be preferable, Booth."

"Hey, don't get snarky with me, Bone Lady, or else you're gonna wind up taking a swim," Booth teased, and Brennan started to laugh.

"You're actually very good at this, Booth," she remarked, her tone taking on that rare quality of admiration.

"So that means next time we're driving to a crime scene, you won't feel the need to question my route, right?"

"That's hardly a comparable situation, Booth!" Brennan objected, and Booth snorted derisively.

"Face it, Bones, you just admitted that I have a good sense of direction."

"No, Booth, I said that you were good at _providing_ directions - which isn't hard, given the fact that you can _see_ the obstacles right in front of you."

"Well, why did you compliment me in the first place, then, if it's so damn easy?"

"I didn't say it was easy."

"You said it 'wasn't hard!'"

"But that doesn't automatically imply that it's _easy_; not if there's a spectrum of difficulty and it's a subjective concept anyway."

"Guys, you've been on the course for exactly fifteen minutes now," Ross shouted over to them, and Booth started to laugh.

"I think that was a not-so-subtle hint, Bones. He obviously thinks you're being unreasonable," Booth teased, poking his partner lightly in the ribs. Brennan clearly wasn't anticipating the assault, and jumped slightly, losing her footing on the peaty ground surrounding the trench until Booth reached out to steady her.

"That's another penalty point, guys," Ross informed them, and Brennan heaved an aggrieved sigh.

"Now look what you've done! You need to stop touching me, Booth."

"And you need to stop distracting me," Booth retorted, forcing his grin to subside. "OK, we've got some stepping stones to start off with, and they're not going to be easy to get across because there's no rhyme or reason to their pattern."

"Great," Brennan muttered, folding her arms.

"Hey, I'm not the one who chose to put you in a blindfold, remember?" Booth reminded her wryly. "Now, take one step to your right… good. Now, stay exactly where you are, and extend your left leg about a foot ahead of you."

"I won't be staying exactly where I am if I do that, Booth, will I?"

"Just stop being pedantic, and do it, Bones."

Brennan obliged, her left foot landing squarely on the first stepping-stone.

"It's only small, so make sure you keep your feet together when you transfer your weight."

Brennan heeded his advice, and quickly regained her balance.

"OK, now you need to turn about 45 degrees to your right and take the biggest stride you can, Bones, because it's a big gap."

This time, Brennan teetered precariously on the outer rim of the next stepping-stone, but under Booth's exemplary tutelage, she managed to stay on dry land and make her way safely towards the slab of concrete that marked the halfway point.

"OK, Bones, there's a rope directly in front of you… you got it? Yeah, that's it," Booth informed her, his brow furrowing as he examined the logistics of the next obstacle. "There's another slab of concrete about seven feet in front of you, and I know I'm not the resident physicist around here, but I reckon you're going to have to get quite a lot of momentum behind your swing to make it across."

"OK," Brennan said, squaring her shoulders and sucking in a resilient breath.

"And Bones, when I say jump, you – "

"Say how high?"

Booth started to laugh. "No, babe, you just… jump, OK? Don't question my judgement."

"Babe?" Brennan echoed, her tone a mixture of surprise and reproach.

"It was just a slip of the tongue, OK, Bones?" Booth was glad his partner was unable to discern the extent of his embarrassment.

"A slip of the tongue - or a Freudian slip?" Brennan teased, and Booth shook his head despairingly.

"Now you're just talking in riddles."

Brennan sighed, stretching the rope until it was positioned tautly between her legs at a forty-five degree angle. She edged backwards to gain as much leverage as possible and then bent her knees, swinging forwards as forcefully as she could. Her breath caught in her throat as she hurtled into the unknown, relying on her partner to illuminate her surroundings, and when Booth told her to jump, she promptly released the rope, hitting the ground with an impact that jarred her joints.

"Are you OK?" Booth demanded, rushing towards her.

She started to laugh, feeling strangely exhilarated. "I'm fine."

Booth breathed another audible sigh of relief. "We're nearly there, now, Bones, and the worst of it's over. There's a balancing beam about eight paces to the left of you. It's about eighteen feet long, and mounted on a bunch of barrels that have been roped together, so when you get to the middle, it's going to tilt, OK?"

"How wide is it?"

"It's pretty narrow, but you're feet are small so you should be able to walk across it without much difficulty, as long as you stay in a straight line. Are you ready?" he asked softly, and Brennan nodded with renewed enthusiasm.

"You're starting on an incline of about 35 degrees, and then it gets gradually steeper. Just take your time, Bones."

Brennan pursed her lips, concentrating solely on retaining her equilibrium as she edged her way along the beam. Booth's sporadic words of encouragement bolstered her confidence, and soon she was at the top of the incline. Beads of sweat were dripping down her back, and she hastily unzipped her coat, tossing it aside.

"It's going to tip over when you take another step forwards, Bones, so just brace yourself and ride it out, OK?" Booth instructed her, and she nodded, keeping her legs akimbo and bending her knees as she slowly inched forwards.

Booth watched with pride as his partner weathered the sudden change in incline with aplomb, but then his gaze centred on the gleaming patch of frost that had yet to thaw in the tepid morning sunshine, and he realised with a sense of horror that he was too late to warn his partner about the impending hazard. He darted forwards just as Bones' legs slipped from beneath her on the downhill route, catching her awkwardly in his arms as she came careering off the side of the beam. Her gasp of surprise entwined with his grunt of exertion, and he hastily adjusted his grip before lifting her to safety, cradling her tightly against his chest.

"It's OK, I've got you," he murmured, and Brennan dropped her head to his shoulder, feeling how fast his heart was pounding before he set her gently on the ground. Booth's unexpected proximity overwhelmed her remaining senses and suddenly she was acutely aware of his warm breath, his intoxicating cologne, and the unyielding sturdiness of his physique, which was still pressed protectively against her. She clung to him for a little longer than necessary under the guise of regaining her balance, and then Ross' concerned voice cut through the haze of sensation.

"Dr Brennan, are you OK?"

"No, she's not OK, she could have broken her goddamn neck!" Booth interjected, his ire easily penetrating the boundaries of Brennan's blindfold. "What I want to know is why the hell you didn't check the equipment for ice before you let us loose on it? I mean, you knew what the weather conditions were like last night! What kind of negligent morons are you?"

"I'm… I'm really sorry Agent Booth, but we did check. We poured boiling water over everything an hour or so before we started."

"Booth, it's fine," Brennan assured him. "It was near freezing point this morning, the air was still saturated and the water vapour probably crystallised to form a new patch of frost."

"Does that mean I should stop yelling at him?" Booth asked, and Brennan nodded, her lips quirking slightly.

"Yes. Booth, I'm fine, really. Can we just finish the course now?"

Booth sent an intimidating glare in Ross' direction. "I take it you aren't going to be deducting any points for that little episode? Or does Bones have to split her skull open before I'm allowed to touch her?"

Ross shook his head vehemently. "No, of course not, Agent Booth." He sent a tentative smile in Booth's direction. "That was a nice save, by the way."

"Yeah, well you'd better hope I don't have to do it again, kid, all right?"

"Booth! Leave the boy alone," Brennan commanded, and Booth looked suitably castigated.

"OK, Bones," he relented, heaving a laboured sigh. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Booth was deftly untying his partner's blindfold and helping her to don her discarded jacket. Brennan sucked in a cleansing breath as the fabric fell away from her face and she finally emerged from the void of darkness. She angled her head towards the muted sun and scrunched her eyes up against its comparative glare, a contented smile gracing her features.

"Squint," Booth teased, and Brennan regarded him with an uncomprehending expression until he mimicked her stance, narrowing his eyes exaggeratedly.

"Very funny, Booth," she muttered sarcastically.

Booth shrugged sheepishly. "It's just nice to see those baby blues again, that's all."

Brennan regarded him absorbedly for a moment, and then smiled softly. "It's nice to see you again, too, Booth."

"So…" Booth ventured, clearing his throat, "Do you want to watch the others braving the seven layers of hell, or should we check out the waterfall that Jenny mentioned?"

Brennan looked thoughtful for a moment. "Having been deprived of my sight for so long, I'd like to focus it on something aesthetically pleasing."

"Well, look no further, Bones," Booth joked, presenting himself for her appraisal.

Brennan laughed, shaking her head in amusement. "You may be a fine specimen of a man, Booth, but I don't think you can compete with Mother Nature."

Booth smiled happily to himself at his partner's backhanded compliment and walked alongside her in companionable silence until they reached the vantage point Jenny had described.

"Wow," he murmured, the sound lost amidst the deafening roar of the waterfall that was cascading over the serrated precipice beneath them.

"She was right, it's beautiful," Brennan enthused, leaning over the railing to enhance her view. "Look at the rainbows, Booth."

"Hey, be careful." Booth looped his arm around his partner's waist as Brennan continued to stand on her tiptoes to survey the captivating landscape. She glanced at him sharply for a moment, but then accepted the gesture without comment, leaning towards him slightly.

"I'm just trying to keep you safe, Bones, that's all," he murmured, his lips lightly brushing her hair.

"I don't need a babysitter, Booth."

"But I did a pretty good job of looking out for you today, right?"

"You did," she conceded, turning to appraise him with luminescent eyes. "Thank you."

Booth studied her attentively, before ducking his head. "You don't ever have to thank me, Bones."

"Because it's all part of the job description, right?" she asked quietly, her eyes trained intently on his features.

"No," he said, his lips twitching as he leaned a little closer, "Because I have a vested interest in your well-being."

Brennan was silent for a moment, and turned to gaze contemplatively into the distance. "Do you remember Jose Vargas, Booth?"

Booth glanced at her sharply, but then nodded his assent. "Of course I do, Bones. I remember what you did for his family, too," he noted warmly. "That went above and beyond the call of duty."

"But you were mad at me, remember, because I refused to coerce his wife into revealing his whereabouts? Because I refused to threaten her with deportation and tell her that we were going to take her baby away from her if she didn't co-operate?"

Booth flinched slightly. "I was frustrated with the circumstances, Bones, because we'd hit a brick wall, but I wasn't mad at you. How could I be?" He offered her a tender smile. "It was the one of the first times I saw you using your heart instead of your head. Hell, I would've been proud if you hadn't been jeopardising my investigation."

Brennan's lips curved into a rueful half smile, but her eyes were swirling with underlying torment.

"Temperance, what are you trying to tell me?" Booth murmured, tugging lightly on his partner's arm until she gradually turned to face him.

Brennan sucked in a deep breath. "The reason why I had so much… empathy for Jose and his family was because I'd had some… personal experience… with El-Salvadorian Death Squads." She studied her partner's features covertly, and saw his jaw clench spasmodically. She cleared her throat, forcing her tone to remain calm, even as her partner's eyes darkened with outrage.

"That was also the reason why I behaved… somewhat recklessly… when I encountered the leader of the Mara Muerte gang. I abhor men who use intimidation and violence to bolster their position in society, Booth; men who'll do anything to ensure that their totalitarian regime isn't overthrown."

Her voice was brimming with passion, and Booth reached out to gently clasp her forearm, trying to rein in his anger. "What happened, Bones?"

Brennan began to play with the buttons on her coat, her fingers trembling barely perceptibly. "I was in El-Salvador identifying the remains of a young girl who had been shot and thrown into the bottom of a well. It became apparent that she was a victim of a gang war and my findings would have implicated several prominent members of the opposition. They wanted to ensure that my evidence never came to light."

"But let me guess, you wouldn't give up, right?" Booth asked, his hoarse tone laced with fear and something that sounded almost akin to pride.

Brennan nodded. "I was abducted by three members of a Death Squad. They put a black bag over my head and frogmarched me through the jungle to a holding cell. I couldn't see anything, Booth, I could barely breathe."

"So the blindfold…"

"Yes." She nodded, her expression becoming marred by self-deprecation. "It's stupid, right?"

"No," Booth stated firmly. "It's not stupid, Bones. You… you should have told me."

"I'm telling you now," Brennan reminded him, a little defensively.

"I know. Hey, I know." His grip on her forearm tightened as he gave the appendage a reassuring squeeze. "Bones… what did they… I mean… they must've hurt you, right?"

"It was three days," Brennan whispered, turning to face her partner with eyes that were shimmering with tears and taunted by memories past, "But it felt like an eternity. I thought I was going to die."

"Oh God, Bones." Booth's voice was hoarse as he hastily gathered his partner into his arms. He couldn't bring himself to ask for the specifics of what Brennan had endured, not when he knew it would make her pain more tangible; not when he knew he might not be able to handle her revelations. "Never again," he vowed instead, his voice trembling with barely suppressed emotion. "Never again."

Brennan sank into her partner's embrace, burying her head in the crook of his shoulder and looping her arms tightly around his waist. Booth was always so warm, and as his hand slipped below the hem of her coat to trace reassuring circles against the small of her back, she realised that his touch had the extraordinary ability to be both invigorating and soothing. She felt like she fit here, somehow, like she had found her sanctuary, wrapped in a balmy blanket of safety, and security… and something that made her heart beat at a rhythm that wasn't remotely congruent with the gentle rocking motion her partner had instigated.

"It felt good to kick his ass, though," she murmured after several minutes of comfortable silence, and she felt her partner's physique begin to shake with laughter beneath her.

"The leader of Mara Muerte, you mean? Ramon Ortez?" he asked, and she nodded, her hair brushing against his cheek in the process.

"Yeah, Bones. It did," Booth agreed, his tone emphatic.

Brennan leaned back slightly to study her partner's features, her own expression laced with confusion. "But you didn't… what did you do, Booth?" she demanded, her lips quirking as she observed her partner's rueful countenance.

"Like I said, Bones, I have a vested interest in your well-being. I always have," Booth murmured, placing his lips to her forehead in a chaste kiss, "And I always will."

Brennan's cheeks turned pink, and a dazzling smile graced her features as she imitated her partner's phrase from earlier on that morning. "Right back at ya, Booth."

"No," Booth said, shaking his head violently as he broke into peals of laughter, "You don't get to use jargon like that, Bones."

Brennan regarded him with eyes that were shining with amusement. "What? Why not?"

"Because… it's just not _right_."

"OK, well, then, I vehemently concur with your sentiment. Is that better?"

They both dissolved into laughter, their eyes remaining interlocked in mutual affection until Brennan edged forwards, resting her head against her partner's shoulder again. Booth readily tightened his grip around her, brushing his lips lightly against her temple in the process, and even though her body suddenly felt suffused with heat, Brennan shivered fiercely in response.

"Booth…" she murmured, her voice catching slightly as she felt his calloused thumb tenderly caressing the nape of her neck.

"It's OK," he whispered, and she nodded slightly, a soft smile ingrained on her features… because it was more - so much more - than OK.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Well, this update is a mishmash of everything, really, but hopefully I retained some level of coherency amidst the chaos! Chapter 7 was probably my personal best in terms of what I've written so far, so I really hope this doesn't seem comparatively…well… crap, for want of a more eloquent term._**

**_I'm lagging behind on my review replies again, because I'm still overawed – and delighted - by the volume of feedback I've been getting. Please keep sending your comments my way, though, and I promise I'll address them ASAP!_**

**_I've been getting quite a lot of anonymous reviews for this story, too, and I just wanted to take a moment to say how much I appreciate each and every one of them. I'm sorry I can't reply to you all on an individual basis :-(_**

* * *

On their way back to the clearing where the obstacle course was based, Brennan studied her partner's physiology with an introspective expression. "Are you going to let me fix your back this time, Booth?"

"I let you fix it last time, didn't I?" Booth countered, quirking his eyebrows pointedly.

"After a great deal of evasive remonstrating, yes."

Booth smiled at his partner beguilingly. "Well there you go, then. If my back was bothering me, I'd let you fix it, Bones, but there's nothing wrong with me, OK?"

Maybe he was protesting a little too much, but Booth had barely recovered from the hug he'd just shared with his partner. A certain component of his anatomy was still a tad overexcited by their increased levels of intimacy, and he wasn't about to put himself in a position where Bones was pressing herself against him and forcing him to gyrate in her arms. If those warm, delicate hands settled anywhere near his pulse point, she'd know that his heart was humming because of her proximity.

Brennan rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Lying to me is a futile exercise when I can plainly discern that your gait is laboured, Booth."

"OK, so I'm limping a little," he conceded, his expression defiant. "Maybe it's a groin strain. Do you know how to fix that, too?"

Brennan's eyes widened slightly. "Are you being suggestive, Booth?"

"What? No!" Booth inwardly groaned at his ill-conceived remark, his panicked expression rapidly becoming flustered. "Sarcasm, Bones. It was sarcasm, OK?"

Brennan remained largely oblivious to her partner's discomfiture, and decided to appeal to his competitive streak instead. "Don't you want to be in optimum condition for the upcoming tasks? They seem to be of a predominantly physical nature."

"Look, I just did a pretty good imitation of Superman to save your sorry ass," Booth reminded her good-naturedly. "Maybe if you hadn't been blindfolded at the time, you would've been able to appreciate that I'm in prime physical condition."

"Actually, I imagine the incident on the obstacle course probably exacerbated the existing problem. Did you know that chronic lumbago accounts for more sick leave than any other medical complaint?" Brennan remarked in a conversational tone.

Booth snorted disdainfully. "What, is 'Mr Vincent Nigel-Murray' back in the lab spouting random facts again or something?"

"It's not a random fact, Booth, it obviously pertains to our current topic of conversation."

"Well, how about we change the subject?"

"I can understand why you're being defensive," Brennan assured him in a superior tone. "Obviously, in your line of work, any form of physical degeneration would be seen as a weakness."

"Bones, you're making it sound like I'm a geriatric in desperate need of a walker or something," Booth protested in amused exasperation. "When I look like Bob, then you can start to worry."

"I'm not _worried_, Booth, because I know the problem can be easily rectified. If you'd just let me – "

"Bones, I'm not going to let you crush my spine again. The noise my back was making when you were…" he cleared his throat, "well… you know. It just wasn't natural, OK?"

"If my recollections are accurate, you said it was 'amazing' at the time," Brennan reminded him, somewhat smugly.

"Yeah… well… it could've been a fluke," Booth retorted, wincing at his admittedly pathetic response. He wasn't about to tell Bones that the heady sensation of her breasts pressing against his back had been more effective at blocking out his pain than any analgesic on the market.

"Booth, yesterday you implied that if any complications arose as a result of our endeavours, you would allow me to correct them."

"Yeah, but - "

"You're obviously suffering with vertebral subluxation," Brennan interjected matter-of-factly. "All I intend to do is use traditional chiropractic methods of spinal manipulation to correct the misalignment."

"Just because you know all the fancy lingo, doesn't mean to say you're a qualified practitioner, Bones."

"Booth, I would never endanger your well-being on a whim," Brennan protested, her eyes clouding with hurt. "I know what I'm doing."

"I know," he assured her warily. "It's just a little… brutal, OK? I mean, call me a traditionalist, but I'm the kind of guy who prefers a nice, relaxing massage."

"Well, I…" Brennan hesitated, her cheeks colouring slightly, "Wouldn't that be a little… intimate?"

"No! I wasn't saying that I wanted you to _give me one_…" Booth's eyes widened when he processed his phraseology. "Oh God… just… never mind."

For one blissful moment, Brennan lapsed into silence, but then she turned to regard her partner with an earnest expression. "I imagine that intercourse must be quite onerous for you, Booth."

"What the hell? No!" Booth exclaimed angrily. "Where did that even come from?"

Brennan flushed slightly. "Well, it seems viable to conclude that, owing to the nature of your back pain, vigorous pelvic activity would be difficult to maintain over an extended period of time… which obviously has implications for your overall… performance."

"Bones, you are way out of line," Booth informed her emphatically. "There is nothing - absolutely nothing - wrong with my performance, OK?"

"So you didn't experience any pain the last time you engaged in coitus, Booth?"

Booth looked as though he was on the verge of spontaneous combustion. "That is none of your goddamn business!"

"I don't know why you insist on being so enigmatic about your love life," Brennan countered defensively, heaving an aggrieved sigh. "You always seem to take an active interest in mine."

"There's nothing to tell, OK, Bones? Now, can we just drop it?"

"But in Sweets office, you said – "

"Bones, I'm not having this conversation with you," Booth said flatly. "End of discussion."

"But it's just that I haven't seen you with anyone since Cam…"

Booth whirled around to face her, his eyes blazing. "That's because there hasn't BEEN anyone since Cam, OK?" he declared fiercely. "Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Brennan shook her head, regarding him with a bewildered expression. "I don't understand… do you mean that there hasn't been anyone _significant_, or…"

"I don't do one-night stands, you should know that by now, Bones," Booth informed her quietly.

Brennan was trying desperately hard to process the startling information her partner had just revealed. "But you're a virile male, Booth, and a very… striking… one, too," she observed, studying him attentively. "I know you can't be short of offers. Are you suffering from some form of… sexual dysfunction?" she ventured tentatively, "Is that why you didn't sleep with Detective Pritchard when we were in London?"

Booth regarded her in indignant disbelief, shaking his head. "So, just because I'm not 'satisfying my biological urges' with any candidate who happens to be willing, you think I'm dysfunctional?" he demanded, and his penetrating gaze was searing in its intensity.

"I just… I don't understand, Booth," Brennan whispered weakly, desperately searching his pained features for an explanation.

"No," Booth declared, his tone laced with bitterness as he turned away from her. "I wouldn't expect you to."

"Booth!" Brennan seized his forearm as he began to walk in the opposite direction, her heart constricting when she realised she had inadvertently destroyed the easy camaraderie between them. "Please…"

"You just can't let it go, can you?" he hissed, regarding Brennan with something akin to resentment. "You always have to push things."

"I'm _sorry_," she murmured, her tone laced with desperation.

"Yeah, well I'm sorry, too, Bones," Booth informed her sadly. "I'm sorry that I can't settle for a substitute without wishing that she was… someone else, OK? Because God knows, my life would be a hell of a lot less complicated if I could," he muttered, his expression hollow.

"So you're saying that your sexual attraction towards other women has degenerated as a result of… unrequited love?" Brennan ventured nervously, her voice sounding meek, rather than dubious.

Booth sought out her gaze then, and the depth of emotion shining in his eyes promptly stole her breath away. "Unrequited?" he echoed, shaking his head despairingly. "I don't know. Why don't _you_ tell _me_, Temperance?"

"I…" Brennan noticeably floundered. She wanted to evade his concentrated gaze, but she couldn't wrench her eyes away from her partner's expectant countenance. "I don't… I don't know what that means."

For one terrifying moment, a fire stirred in the pits of Booth's tempestuous eyes, and Brennan thought he was going to call her bluff. He opened his mouth to say something, but then promptly closed it again, his jaw clenching tightly as he nodded resignedly.

"We should get back to the others," he asserted abruptly, promptly turning on his heel and striding along the trail at such a furious pace, even Brennan couldn't hope to keep up with him.

* * *

"Ow! For fuck's sake, be careful, would you?" Alex hissed, instinctively withdrawing her throbbing legs from Jenny's gentle grasp. She winced as the antiseptic solution soaked into her grazed knees, causing the raw abrasions to sting violently, and shot a deathly glare in her partner's direction.

"Yeah, it hurts, doesn't it, Johnson?" Bob countered, holding up his bandaged wrists for her appraisal. "That's the thing with you young hotshots, you can dish it out, but you can't take it."

"So you're saying you did this on purpose?" Alex demanded, gingerly rising from the tree stump she was sitting on and stalking towards her partner with ominous intent.

Trying not to laugh at her murderous expression and the fact that Bob was making a hasty retreat into the undergrowth, Simon stopped her progress by thrusting a towel into her arms. "Dry yourself off, Johnson, or else you're gonna wind up getting sick. I'm sure the others would be devastated if you weren't around to provide them with some comic relief."

"You know what, Simon? Fuck you," Alex retorted, her tone shaking with a mixture of anger and genuine distress.

Simon sent a suggestive wink in her direction. "In your dreams, sweetheart," he countered, his expression becoming noticeably alarmed when he saw the tears welling in Alex's cobalt blue eyes. "Come on, Johnson, keep your chin up," he cajoled, his tone considerably kinder as he placed his hands on Alex's shoulders, easing her back into a sitting position. He rolled the cuffs of her sodden sweatpants up, pulling a tube of arnica cream out of his pocket and handing it to her. "Rub some of that onto your knees, it'll help with the bruising."

Alex sent a tremulous smile in his direction, wrapping her bedraggled blonde hair in the towel he'd provided. "My hands still hurt," she informed him meekly, raising her palms for his inspection. "Can't you do it?"

"Subtlety's really not your strong point, is it?" Simon informed her wryly. "I'll let Jenny finish doing the honours, OK?"

"You know, Simon, I really wouldn't have a problem if you wanted to play Doctor instead."

Alex sent an unrepentant grin in his direction, and the Guide rolled his eyes, inwardly acknowledging the irony of Alex's girl-next-door demeanour.

Her demise had been somewhat spectacular – she had fearlessly managed to stumble and fumble her way around the course, paying limited heed to Bob's half-hearted guidance, and Ross had confessed to being in awe of her spatial awareness. However, the dugout had ultimately been her downfall. Her legs had been soaked through after her encounter with the erratically spaced stepping-stones, and Bob's instructions to dismount from the rope swing had been markedly premature. Alex had crashed onto the innermost edge of the concrete, her knees bearing the brunt of the impact, and then she'd lowered her hands in a bid to break her fall. Hearing Bob spluttering in an attempt to contain his laughter, she'd hastily scrambled to her feet, not realising how perilously close she was to the water's edge.

Bob stopped trying to suppress his mirth when Alex plunged into the depths of the trench, and by the time Jenny and Ross hauled her back onto dry land, the makeup she had plastered on that morning was completely dissolved, save for the streaks of mascara peppering her ashen cheeks. A shivering Alex had refused to tackle any more of the obstacles, concluding the task by offering another insight into her highly honed sense of spatial awareness… namely via driving her hands into Bob's chest and propelling him onto his ass while still blindfolded.

Simon had to concede that, without the mask of come-hither makeup, Alex was an attractive woman. Her unblemished complexion and halo of blonde hair gave her a disturbingly angelic appearance, but as the Agent continued to level an alluring smile in his direction, he shook his head forcefully. "I don't think you'd like my bedside manner, Johnson."

Alex frowned, heaving an aggrieved sigh. "Fine. Whatever." She began furiously rubbing the arnica into her wounds, now apparently oblivious to her pain threshold. "If I get pneumonia, you do realise that the Bureau will be suing your sorry ass, right?"

"Which is why we've got several pairs of these to hand." Simon requisitioned a pair of company-issue sweats from his backpack, throwing them unceremoniously in the Agent's direction. "Go and find a tree to hide behind and then you can get changed."

Alex regarded the insulated drawstring pants and shapeless fleece-lined sweatshirt distastefully. "These are like… three sizes too big."

"Well, it's one size fits all, I'm afraid, so you're just gonna have to grin and bear it."

"But the colour's hideous," Alex whined, surveying the drab grey material with a plaintive expression.

"Yeah, the faux-leather and leopard print winter-wear was out of stock last time I placed my order," Simon deadpanned, trying not to laugh when Alex shot him a dirty look. "You'll be pleased to know that there's a wider selection when it comes to band aids, though, Agent Johnson," he informed her sardonically. "They come in all shapes and sizes. We have them in flesh pink…" he tossed her a skin-coloured band-aid, "Or electric blue. Take your pick."

"I think you missed your calling," Alex noted sarcastically. "You could've made a killing in retail."

"You know, you'd be a hell of a lot more tolerable if you quit bitching and let some of that personality shine through," Simon countered good-naturedly, taking the arnica out of her hand and tapping her gently on the thigh with the small tube, "Because I know there's got to be more to you than this whole Cruella de Vil routine."

"Look, Simon, don't try and turn me into your pet project, because I'm not interested, OK?" Alex retorted caustically, promptly abandoning any attempts at flirtation as she stalked into the foliage to change into her sweats.

"Well, you could've fooled me," he shouted after her, shaking his head in a mixture of exasperation and amusement. Five days wasn't going to be nearly long enough to figure that one out.

* * *

An hour later, everyone had reassembled in the clearing. Booth wouldn't have thought it possible, but the group actually looked even more miserable than when they'd first set out this morning - only this time, he was including himself in that equation.

Sergio, like Alex, was wearing a set of company-issue sweats and standing with his legs akimbo after falling foul of the balancing beam. He'd been quick to inform Simon that any reduction in his sperm count would result in a lawsuit. Mark was dry, but his left wrist was encased in a support bandage after he'd lost his grip on the cargo net and twisted it trying to re-establish his hold. Under Otis' meticulous leadership, Teresa had emerged relatively unscathed; save for the friction burn she'd contracted after loosening her grasp on the rope and then rapidly changing her mind. Her partner had eventually persuaded her to let go, and she'd managed to avoid falling into the abyss, her longs legs scrambling to find solid ground.

Simon moved to stand in front of the group, regarding them all with barely-concealed amusement. "Right, you wretched lot, after Jenny's finished tallying your scores, we're gonna grab some lunch and hopefully the hot food will help to warm you up again," he announced, levelling an affable smile in their direction. "I'm pleased to see that you're all still in one piece - give or take a limb or two - and I've got to say, I'm glad that everyone decided to give this task a go."

"I think we can safely say that the feeling isn't mutual, buddy," Mark informed him wryly.

Simon started to laugh. "Whatever gave you that impression, Agent Simmons?" he countered sarcastically, casting an appraising eye over the disconsolate group. "The important thing is that we're getting there, people… one small step at a time. I hope you've all come to realise that placing a little faith in your partner doesn't automatically equate to a death wish."

"You're kidding, right?" Alex demanded, her eyes thinning as they fixed upon an unrepentant Bob, who had strategically positioned himself as far away from her as possible.

"Well, there's always an exception to prove the rule, Agent Johnson, and God knows, you're contrary enough for everyone." Simon gazed at Alex intently until she ducked her head, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Oh for God's sake, Johnson, put a smile on your face, or else I'm going to force you and Agent Norris to initiate a group hug, OK?"

Alex's head snapped up, and she glared at the Guide until his amused expression caused her lips to quirk slightly at the corners.

"You're not funny," she muttered, folding her arms defiantly as a small smile graced her features.

"That's probably because you have a stunted sense of humour," Simon retorted, his eyes settling on Jenny as she jogged across the clearing, clutching a piece of paper in her hands. "Jenny!" he announced loudly, levelling a smile in his colleague's direction. "I'll let you do the grand unveiling."

Jenny waved at the group enthusiastically. "Hi again, everyone!" she exclaimed breathlessly, undeterred by their apathetic response. "OK, so I've finished totting up all of your points. Only three teams managed to complete the course in its entirety, and I'm going to read out their scores in ascending order. Agent Rivers and Agent Simmons crossed the finish line in 29 minutes and 16 seconds - which is an excellent time, you guys, so well done," she sent a beaming smile in their direction, and then promptly bit her lip. "Unfortunately, they also suffered a few bumps and scrapes along the way, and we had to deduct a total of five points," she informed them regretfully. "So, if we combine your scores for both tasks, that gives you a grand total of seven points altogether, putting you in third place."

"Well, it's better than forth," Sandra conceded, rolling her eyes in conjunction with her beleaguered partner.

"I'm not sure whether it was worth it, though," Mark pronounced, holding up his injured wrist in the hopes of eliciting some sympathy. Jenny barely blinked in response.

"Agent White and Agent Lewis finished the course in 24 minutes and 31 seconds, which was actually the fastest completion time, so congratulations you guys, you get a bonus point," Jenny announced, attempting to instigate a round of applause. Teresa and Otis glanced at each other wryly, looking less than thrilled.

"You managed to retain seven of your original ten points – and that's including the bonus point - which puts you in second place with a grand total of eleven points."

"Go team," Otis remarked sardonically, waving some imaginary pom-poms and eliciting a snort from Teresa in the process.

Jenny's luminous smile increased in intensity. "Dr Brennan and Agent Booth had another amazing run and only dropped a couple of points along the way. They finished in 25 minutes and 33 seconds, giving them a grand total of thirteen points and putting them at the head of the pack. Let's just hope it isn't a case of unlucky thirteen, right, guys?"

Everyone glanced in Brennan and Booth's direction, surprised to see them standing a couple of feet apart and resolutely avoiding each other's gaze.

"Uh-oh. There's trouble in paradise," Teresa remarked under her breath, quirking her eyebrows pointedly at Alex.

The blonde Agent studied Booth's guarded countenance and rigid physique with avid interest, barely heeding Jenny's assertion that she and Bob were still at the bottom of the leader board after securing a paltry two points. "Well, she's obviously done something to piss him off," she noted wryly, her eyes gleaming with barely-concealed glee.

Simon shook his head despairingly as he appraised his star pupils and the palpable tension flowing between them. "OK, so clearly Dr Brennan and Agent Booth aren't in the mood to celebrate their victory right now," he remarked sarcastically, "But I can guarantee that this afternoon's task is going to cheer you all up." The Guide broke into a fresh bout of laughter as ten pairs of suspicious eyes narrowed warily in his direction. "No, guys, I'm serious. I figured you trigger-happy Feds would find it therapeutic firing off a few rounds, so we're going to play our very own version of Bullseye."

For once, his announcement was greeted with something vaguely resembling enthusiasm, and Brennan sent a surreptitious glance in her partner's direction to gauge his reaction.

"You were right," she whispered, and Booth nodded, sending a half-hearted smile in her direction.

"Yeah," he murmured wearily, "It looks like you're going to get your gun after all, Bones."

Seeing his downcast expression, Brennan's stomach instinctively constricted. "Booth… I…"

"I'm sorry," Alex interposed, rather loudly, "I don't mean to sound like a party pooper or anything, but Teresa, didn't you say that the Bureau had forbidden Dr Brennan from carrying a concealed weapon because of… reckless endangerment or something? I mean, she could be a liability if we're using live rounds, right?"

Simon looked marginally alarmed and glanced in Brennan and Booth's direction, along with the rest of the patently curious group. "Is that true?" he asked, his tone clearly conveying his incredulity.

Brennan opened her mouth to voice her objections, but Booth traversed the space between them to place a quelling hand on her forearm.

"No, it's not true," he ground out, barely concealing his anger. "Bones doesn't carry a weapon because I won't put her in that position; I won't make her a target when that's not what she signed up for. I vowed to protect her," he informed them intently, "But that doesn't mean to say she can't protect herself – or me, for that matter, because she's risked her life to save mine more times than I'd care to count." He regarded Alex defiantly. "How many guys have you taken out to safeguard your partner, Johnson?"

Alex held up her hands in mock surrender. "OK, chill out, Seeley, for God's sake. I was just saying that she's been known to shoot unarmed men before – "

"And rats," Teresa interjected helpfully, her eyes crinkling with barely suppressed laughter.

"And rats," Alex echoed, levelling an amused, but quizzical look in her friend's direction, "So maybe we ought to get some protective gear, you know? Just in case she has another… mishap."

"Agent Johnson, I think it would be advisable for you to shut the hell up," Simon informed her in a non-negotiable tone. "Right now."

"But I just don't think we should be forced to share the firing range with a novice – "

"Johnson, you are really beginning to _piss me off_," Booth muttered forebodingly, but Brennan stepped forwards, holding out a hand to silence him.

She approached Alex until she was looming over the smaller woman, her aggressive stance belying her own slender frame. "Agent Johnson, I am most definitely not a _novice_ when it comes to handling firearms," she asserted self-assuredly. "Regardless of the FBI's standpoint, I'm licensed to carry my own gun, and I'm willing to hypothesise that my aim is far more proficient than yours."

There were a myriad of catcalls from the rest of the group, and Otis' booming timbre rose above the general din. "You sock it to her, Dr Brennan," he exclaimed, breaking into a wide grin when he saw Booth's long-suffering expression.

Alex eyed Brennan scornfully, her lips curling into a mocking sneer. "Sweetheart, I was the best mark in my year at the Academy and God knows, Bob's had plenty of time to practice his aim. You haven't got a hope in hell," she informed her flatly.

Although Brennan was struggling to understand why everyone was so entertained by her outburst, her eyes continued to sparkle defiantly. "I beg to differ, Agent Johnson. I think you're vastly underestimating my capabilities."

Alex snorted derisively, sending a smirk in Teresa's direction, and Brennan's eyes noticeably darkened. She wasn't going to overlook the opportunity to defend herself this time.

"And for your information, Agent Johnson, the 'unarmed' man that I shot – and that's _man_, singular, not plural – was a murderer. He stabbed a young woman – a pregnant young woman – repeatedly, and then reduced her skull to fragments with a sledgehammer. _I_ was the one who deduced his identity, and I knew that, after seeing the warrant we presented to his boss, he would endeavour to destroy all of the incriminating evidence against him. I arrived at his residence to find him pouring copious amounts of gasoline onto the floor where the victim was murdered. He was brandishing a lighter with the intent of destroying everything that would validate our case against him, so I took the necessary steps to safeguard both the evidence and myself, before Agent Booth arrived to secure the scene. Is that a problem?" she demanded, her eyes flashing in an unspoken challenge.

Alex regarded her contemptuously, quirking a defiant eyebrow. "No, it's not. Now, do you want to get out of my face?" she spat out, squaring off against a stoic Brennan, who didn't shift an iota in response.

"Johnson, you'd better back off, because I'm telling you now, she will kick your cocky ass," Booth warned his colleague, watching his partner assert her dominance with a mixture of pride and amusement.

"Seeley, I very much doubt that I'd have a problem taming your little lab rat," Alex countered coolly, her eyes never leaving Brennan's impassive face.

"Why don't you try it, Agent Johnson, and then I'll let you know what I think of your technique," Brennan countered evenly, staring at the blonde woman until Alex finally recoiled from the unrelenting ferocity in her ice-blue eyes.

"OK, ladies, I wasn't planning on adding grappling to the inventory of tasks, so can you pipe down, please?" Simon commanded, shooting an amused look in Booth's direction when Brennan raised her hand to attract his attention. "Yes, Dr Brennan?"

"I would just like to make it clear to Agent White that I only shot the rats because they were compromising the integrity of my remains," Brennan stated vociferously, earning a round of raucous laughter.

Simon rolled his eyes indulgently. "Thank you for conjuring up that image directly before lunch, Dr Brennan," he deadpanned, tilting his head towards Ross, who was getting ready to distribute the limited number of MREs. "Right guys, you can go and grab some lunch now," he announced, and the Agents promptly dispersed to bombard the beleaguered-looking young man.

Brennan returned to her partner's side, immeasurably pleased to find him smiling at her warmly. "What?" she murmured lightly, her eyes clearly conveying her relief as Booth held her gaze without flinching.

"I just haven't seen you do that in a while," he noted, his grin expanding still further.

"Do what, Booth?"

"Get in someone's face like that," he explained wryly. "You've been a lot less… belligerent lately."

"You make it sound like that's a bad thing," she countered, regarding him with a quizzical smile.

"No, not at all. It's just nice to see that 'take-no-prisoners' attitude resurface every now and again, Bones, that's all." _Because it's hot as all hell, _he inwardly added.

"But earlier, you said that I always… push too hard… that you hate the way I…" she trailed off, her eyes welling with tears as she shook her head almost imperceptibly. "Never mind."

"Hey…" Booth ventured, rapidly closing the distance between them and gently bumping his partner's shoulder. "Hate isn't in my vocabulary when it comes to you, OK, Bones?"

"Well, I hate fighting with you," Brennan informed him earnestly, "Does that count?"

Booth scrubbed his face with his hand and then offered her a laconic smile. "Look, I lost my cool earlier and said some things I shouldn't have. Let's just… forget about it, OK?"

"But I'm sorry that I upset you, Booth."

"I know," he reassured her, clearing his throat and hastily turning away again. "Come on, let's grab some lunch before the others steal our rations."

"Booth…" Brennan captured her partner's wrist in her hands, and swallowed prominently when the halting timbre of her tone caused Booth to stop in his tracks and seek out her piercing gaze. "You do know… I mean, you are aware of the fact that I… that you…"

"Spit it out, Bones," Booth teased, his features noticeably softening as he observed his partner's uncharacteristic diffidence.

"You mean a great deal to me," Brennan blurted out, her cheeks colouring slightly as her heart began to pound ferociously against her ribcage.

A smile began to tug at the corners of Booth's lips as he absorbed this unexpected piece of information. "I do?" he reiterated softly, and an answering beam was quick to blossom on his partner's exquisite features.

"You do," Brennan confirmed earnestly, looping her arm companionably around her partner's waist as they headed towards Ross and the others. "Oh, and Booth?"

"Yeah?" he ventured, feeling his stomach clench as he contemplated the possibility of his partner making another uplifting disclosure.

"I intend to wipe the ground with Agent Johnson in the upcoming task."

Booth snorted, his expression brimming with mirth. "Oh God, I'm so glad you didn't say that to her," he choked out through peals of uproarious laughter.

"What? Why?" Brennan demanded, looking genuinely bewildered.

"It's 'wipe the floor,' Bones, not 'wipe the ground,'" he explained, shaking his head despairingly.

"But they're virtually synonymous!" she exclaimed, her brow visibly furrowing.

"Well, either way, I'm right there with you," Booth assured her, giving her an affectionate squeeze before they were forced to break apart.

The physical bond may have been severed, but their eyes were constantly seeking some form of connection, and Simon watched their interplay with a shrewd smile. He'd been doing this job for eight years now, but he'd never stumbled across two people who had such an innate harmony in their differences before; two people who could single-handedly re-write the literature he'd accumulated on the subject of building a successful partnership. They were truly unique - he just hoped he could help them to acknowledge that fact before the course was over.


	9. Chapter 9

**_I wrote this while feeling vaguely like the walking dead, but hopefully it won't show!_**

**_Please let me know your thoughts - as always, your reviews inspire me to keep writing quickly. _**

**_I hope you all enjoy what's left of your weekend :-)_**

* * *

"Is Agent Johnson really as adept as she claims to be when it comes to handling firearms, Booth?" Brennan asked as they headed towards the shooting range. Despite Booth's protracted gait, they were still walking several yards ahead of the other weary Agents.

Booth hesitated. "Well, I know Cullen wouldn't have authorised her transfer after the whole Buffalo fiasco if she didn't have something to offer," he informed her frankly. "She graduated from the Academy with flying colours, but her career's been taking a nose-dive ever since." He snorted wryly. "Which is pretty damn poetic, I guess."

Brennan nodded, looking pensive. "And what about Agent Norris? Is he likely to be a laudable opponent?"

"Yeah, Bob's pretty good, Bones," Booth readily admitted. "He's got twenty years on me when it comes to target practice and I know his aim is still rock-steady. Not as steady as mine though," he informed her, his eyes darkening slightly.

"It never pays to be complacent, Booth."

"I wasn't being complacent," he countered abruptly. Seeing his partner's vaguely wounded expression, he hastily abandoned his brooding demeanour. "What's with all the questions anyway?" he ventured, regarding Brennan with amusement. "Don't tell me you're regretting calling Alex out?"

Brennan frowned, eying him in confusion. "Calling her out where, Booth?"

"It's a figurative…" He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Never mind, Bones. I just meant… you know… that you must be nervous after throwing down the gauntlet in front of all those people?"

"Which is also a figurative expression," Brennan reminded her partner wryly, "It derives from the French term 'gantelet," she added, completely oblivious to his indifferent expression, "In medieval lore, a knight would issue a challenge by throwing down his glove - or _gant _- and - "

"Bones, spare me the spiel, OK?" Booth interjected, regarding her beseechingly.

"Fine," Brennan countered, pursing her lips cantankerously, "If you want to continue using expressions without knowing their origin, I'm happy to let you wallow in ignorance."

"I've been managing just fine for the past thirty-six years, Bones."

"I very much doubt that you had a fully-developed vocabulary from birth, Booth," Brennan countered, her expression decidedly smug.

"Now you're just being persnickety."

"Persnickety?" Brennan snorted contemptuously. "Is that even a word?"

"Yes, Miss Merriam-Webster, it is, so you can put that in your pipe and smoke it, OK?"

"I have no desire to pollute my body with toxins, Booth," Brennan stated imperiously, "And I sincerely hope that you've stopped smoking those cigars, too."

"Bones, it's not like I make a habit of it," Booth protested in an exasperated tone. "It was a one-off indulgence. You can't blame me for wanting a taste of life's simple pleasures after... well, you know."

"If the taste is anywhere near as nauseating as the smell, I imagine it can't have been very pleasurable."

Booth watched with concern as his partner's eyes became progressively more remote, and immediately regretted mentioning his close call. He nudged her lightly with his elbow. "You're just pissed off because I know a word that you don't," he teased, relieved to see Brennan quickly snap out of her reverie.

"One word doesn't equate to a superior vocabulary, Booth. I imagine I know hundreds of words that you've never even heard of."

"Yeah, but when someone tells _me_ to 'put that in my pipe and smoke it,' at least I don't take them seriously." Booth started to laugh uproariously, and Brennan huffed, folding her arms.

"You're being mean to me, Booth."

"Poor baby," he teased sarcastically, looping an arm around his partner's shoulders when she attempted to saunter away from him. "Aw, come on, Bones, don't be like that. You know I love you really," he declared, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"Is that another 'figurative expression,' or am I supposed to take you seriously this time?" Brennan countered, quirking an eyebrow. Seeing the look of unbridled panic on her partner's features, she started to laugh, forcibly pushing him away. "On second thoughts, don't answer that."

Booth gritted his teeth, his cheeks reddening slightly. "You didn't even answer _my_ question," he reminded her pointedly.

Brennan looked puzzled for a moment, and then realisation gradually dawned. "No, I don't regret challenging Agent Johnson," she declared with conviction, "I just wanted to know whether her self-confidence was warranted, that's all. She could have simply been posturing in front of your colleagues to save face."

"Well, it looks like she's going to wind up with pie on her face instead," Booth informed his partner, chuckling amusedly at his own joke.

"Does everything have to be about pie with you?" Brennan countered in an exasperated tone, "Or am I correct in assuming that you just made a metaphorical assertion pertaining to the likelihood of Agent Johnson's demise?"

Booth ruffled his partner's hair affectionately, grinning when she slapped his hand away. "You've got it in one, Bones," he teased, and then promptly added with a snort of laughter, "For once."

Brennan's lips quirked in amusement. "You're really not as funny as you like to think you are, Booth. Although I suppose, for someone of limited academic standing, you can be quite quick-witted on occasion."

"And for a certified genius, you can be pretty slow on the uptake," Booth retorted, his eyes crinkling with amusement, "But don't worry, Alex _can't hold a candle to you_," he concluded playfully.

"OK, stop!" Brennan groaned, rolling her eyes, but then her visage visibly brightened. "I know where that phrase derives from, too," she informed her partner triumphantly. "In the Elizabethan era, street lighting was a rare commodity, so underprivileged young boys were hired to escort – " Brennan punched her partner lightly in the stomach when he began humming loudly to drown out her explanation, breaking into an indulgent smile even as she shook her head despairingly. "You're being very immature, Booth."

"Yeah, well don't mock my language skills, OK? I may not be penta-lingual like Andy Lister, but I can hold my own with the best of them."

"Penta-lingual?" Brennan echoed, her expression derisive.

"See, that's exactly what I mean, Bones," Booth informed her in frustration, gently resting his hands on his partner's shoulders and mimicking a throttling motion.

"Get off of me, Booth," Brennan protested half-heartedly, her breath hitching slightly when she felt her partner's thumb tenderly grazing the nape of her neck and his fingers come to rest languidly against her throat, "And for your information, Andy Lister speaks six languages - not five - so if you apply your theory, I believe the correct term would be _sex_-lingual."

"Sex-lingual, huh?" Booth said softly, and Brennan felt his warm breath rustling through her hair. She shivered slightly, halting in her tracks, and then briefly closed her eyes when the sudden cessation of movement caused her unsuspecting partner to crash into her. She reached out to remove the hands that were still lightly encircling her shoulders, turning to regard Booth with sparkling eyes.

"Yes," she affirmed quietly, "Although someone who speaks several different languages is actually referred to as a 'polyglot.'"

"Really?" Booth edged a little closer, leaving their faces mere inches apart.

"Really."

"You know, I think I learn a lot more quickly when you're the teacher, Bones," Booth murmured, his eyes roving over the minutiae of his partner's features and then settling on her soft lips.

Brennan suddenly found it hard to swallow. "I think we've established that it's a mutually beneficial arrangement, Booth. I learn a lot from you, too."

She watched her partner's mouth quirk at the corners and allowed herself to become engulfed in the intensity of his gaze until the footfalls of the others became excruciatingly audible. Then, acutely aware of their intimate proximity, Brennan quickly turned her attention back to the rock-strewn trail, her breath snagging slightly when Booth's hand settled against her lower back under the guise of urging her forwards. Usually, that hand was static, pressing unassumingly against the ridge of her spine. Now, she could feel Booth's thumb tracing a tender pattern through the thick fabric of her sweatshirt and, as innocuous as that gesture was, her stomach still began to flutter pleasurably in response.

* * *

After spending several minutes outlining the rules of the task and giving them the requisite lecture on safety, Simon had distributed ten pairs of protective goggles and acoustic earmuffs and handed each set of partners a Ruger MK III semi-automatic pistol. Five concentric paper targets had been fixed approximately 50 yards away from the firing point, uniformly spaced but with a considerable gap between them. They were reinforced by a towering backstop of sandbags designed to absorb the wayward bullets. Every member of the group would be given the opportunity to fire a 10-round magazine at their respective targets, and the partners with the highest combined score would be declared the winners.

The opportunity for fighting talk was severely hindered by the ear defenders that everyone was compelled to wear, but Alex was more than adept at conveying her hostility through body language alone, and purposefully jarred Brennan's shoulder as she sauntered past her, glancing backwards with a self-satisfied smirk. Brennan moved to intercept the aggressive blonde, but Booth placed a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly and pointing to the target ahead of them. His message was clear. There was more than one way to prove her supremacy.

Alex deliberately opted to select the target directly adjacent to Brennan's, and she spent a moment gauging the weight of the gun, squinting through the iron sight and running through the motions of levelling her aim. The partners were permitted to choose who went first, and Alex waved an arm to garner Brennan's attention, pointing back and forth between them. Brennan nodded almost imperceptibly, taking the proffered gun from her partner and glancing at him sharply when he lightly brushed her hand with his own. Booth gave her two thumbs up and an encouraging grin, and Brennan's lips quirked faintly in response. Then the flicker of warmth in her eyes promptly extinguished, and she focused on the target with such concentrated intensity that Booth was surprised it didn't fall to the ground and surrender of its own accord.

Alex was performing an exaggerated mime for Brennan's benefit, indicating that she had to remove the safety before the gun would fire, and it took all of Brennan's willpower not to point her pistol in the patronising Agent's direction and demonstrate the extent of her expertise. Instead, she glanced in Simon's direction, waiting for his call to arms. The Guide sent a sweeping glance along the range, ensuring everyone was set to start the task, and then he lowered his raised arm, giving them a cut nod in the process.

Brennan used two hands to grip the gun and refused to be deterred by the fact that Alex was only using one. She took a deep breath, adjusting her stance to find her optimum centre of gravity, and after meticulously calculating her aim, pulled the trigger. Her first shot landed two bands to the right of the bullseye, squarely perforating the target. Her victorious smile faded slightly when she glanced to her left, only to realise that Alex's discharge had hit the inner rim of the same circle, bringing it a fraction closer to the critical target. Still, the blonde Agent looked completely taken aback by Brennan's precision and her mouth was slightly agape when she sent a contemptuous glance in her direction.

Brennan smirked, quirking an eyebrow, and was poised to raise the gun again when she felt a hand gently enveloping her wrist. She glared unrepentantly at Booth for disrupting her focus, and then realised he was gesturing wildly to the other Agents' targets, an expansive grin illuminating his features. Glancing along the row at Sandra, Otis and Sergio's endeavours, it quickly became apparent that she and Alex were the only two participants to come anywhere close to hitting the bullseye itself. Brennan was surprised to see that Sergio had barely managed to graze the paper. Seeing the pride shining in her partner's eyes, Brennan took a fleeting moment to enjoy the accomplishment, and held the gun up for Booth's appraisal, giving him a pointed look that clearly said _"can I have one of my own now?"_ Booth shook his head vehemently, his eyes crinkling with laughter. Then he moved his index finger in a swivelling motion, indicating that she should return her attention to the task at hand.

Alex fired her remaining nine rounds in quick, but lethal succession. All of them connected solidly with the target, creating a cluster of holes that edged progressively closer to the coveted, but microscopic bullseye. Brennan's technique was more measured, and she took a moment to gauge the wind speed, steadying her hands and centring her aim where necessary. By the time she finished emptying the magazine, her target could have been a carbon copy of the blonde Agent's. Both of them had veered slightly to the right of the bullseye, and both of them had grazed its periphery on two occasions. Brennan had landed three shots in the middle of the innermost ring, but Alex had managed to surpass her with four. The Agent's bullets had punctured the paper marginally closer to the interior edge, but they were still within the confines of the circle itself, so the nominal difference would have no bearing on their individual scores.

The remainder of Brennan's shots spanned the second and third bands, but one of Alex's errant bullets had strayed to the forth, leaving them incapable of deducing who had the overall advantage. They stared at each other coldly for a moment, and then Simon waved a flag to indicate the end of the first heat. The Agents lowered their weapons accordingly, and the hotchpotch of perforations littering their targets left no doubt that Brennan and Alex were the most talented members of the group.

"That was amazing."

Booth's warm, fresh breath swept across her cheek as he gently removed her earmuffs, and the appreciative timbre of his tone resonated deep within the pit of Brennan's stomach.

"Not amazing enough," she said ruefully, heaving a disappointed sigh upon realising that she hadn't accomplished her initial aim of annihilating her adversary.

"Are you kidding? Alex wasn't lying, Bones, she's an amazing mark, but you just met her shot for shot. Look at her face. She's livid," Booth informed her gleefully, and Brennan allowed a fleeting smile to grace her features as she observed Alex's incensed expression.

However, her anxiety rapidly returned when she saw Simon striding across the clearing to appraise their respective targets. He removed them from their fixtures, beckoning Ross and Jenny to join him, and the Guides mulled over the decimated paper for what seemed like an eternity. Then Simon marched towards the centre of the clearing, holding up both of the women's targets for everyone's evaluation. "It's too close to call," he announced definitively, and Brennan's tense shoulders slumped in palpable relief.

"Wow, Dr Brennan, you're quite some novice," Otis hollered from the other side of the firing range, and the group broke into a spontaneous round of applause.

"Yeah, you just redefined the notion of beginner's luck, Bones," Booth added sarcastically, breaking into laughter along with everyone else as he gazed disdainfully in Alex's direction.

"I want a rematch," Alex suddenly declared, and Simon shook his head despairingly.

"For God's sake, Johnson, let it go. Dr Brennan is clearly more than capable of holding her own. Don't set yourself up for another fall," he warned her, and she regarded him defiantly.

"No, in any other sport, we'd go to a tiebreak, so why the hell should this be any different?" Alex demanded, motioning for Bob to hand her the new cartridge. "We should get one more shot apiece, and then you can decide whether the round of applause is warranted, OK? She didn't _win_," she reminded them angrily, expertly reloading the gun.

"But Booth is an exemplary marksman, so in all probability, we _will _win," Brennan reminded her matter-of-factly, and Alex turned to regard her with a sneer.

"Don't try and talk your way out of it, Dr Brennan. You're just too chickenshit to take me on."

Brennan started to laugh in disbelief. "I believe that's precisely what I just did, Agent Johnson, and quite effectively, too."

"So you think you're a better shot than me?" Alex demanded, her tone laced with outrage.

Brennan hesitated. "No, I think it would be fairer to say that we're evenly matched," she replied magnanimously.

"So why don't you put your money where your mouth is?"

Brennan glanced at her partner, her expression laced with confusion. "I didn't bring any money with me," she informed him anxiously, and Booth offered her a tender smile.

"It's just another way of throwing down the gauntlet, Bones," he informed her, narrowing his eyes in Alex's direction, "And you should just walk away, because she's really not worth it."

The rest of the group, however, clearly begged to differ, and under Teresa's direction, they began to chant _"face-off, face-off, face-off"_ with growing fervour, clapping their hands enthusiastically.

It was the first time Simon had seen the apathetic Agents display any lingering signs of animation all day and, realising that he would be pitted against the baying masses if he took the moral high ground, he glanced heavenward and heaved an aggrieved sigh. "It's up to you, Dr Brennan," he proclaimed in a tone that was laced with lassitude, shrugging apologetically when Booth sent a disapproving glare in his direction.

"Do you think I can beat her, Booth?" Brennan ventured quietly, her confidence visibly faltering as she inwardly acknowledged that Alex had both the skill and the determination to defeat her if she decided to take up the challenge.

Booth studied her keenly for a moment, and then placed the fresh cartridge in her clammy hands, curling his fingers around them and squeezing lightly. "I think you can kill her," he murmured, his tone brimming with conviction.

Brennan searched her partner's face for any sign of doubt, but only found unbridled faith. She held his intense gaze for a moment, and an intangible energy seemed to bounce between them, imbuing her with a renewed sense of resolve. "OK," she murmured, for his ears only, before slowly turning to face the expectant crowd. "OK, I'll do it," she announced, to a cacophony of cheers and whistles.

"All right, Agent Johnson, it looks like you've got your showdown," Simon announced, regarding the beaming blonde wryly, "But you should be aware that this little confrontation is not going to have any bearing on the overall scores. You and Dr Brennan received the same number of points, and that's the way it's going to stay, so if you're that concerned about winning the task, maybe you should start giving your partner a little pep talk instead."

Alex rolled her eyes. "Just get me a fresh target, Simon, would you?"

Ross was already in the process of mounting five pristine paper targets in front of the sandbags, so Simon turned his attention to the rest of the group, shaking his head in amusement when he realised the Agents were already making bets amongst themselves.

"OK everyone, pipe down and give the ladies some space," Simon hollered, gesturing for them to assemble behind the firing point and don their protective gear. When everyone was suitably attired, he turned towards Alex and Brennan with a sardonic smile. "So, am I going to have to flip a coin, or can you decide who's going to go first without instigating World War III in the process?"

Alex stepped forwards before Brennan even had time to respond. "I'll go first," she declared, and Simon glanced at Brennan in amusement.

"Is that OK?"

Brennan shrugged, nodding, and moved to stand alongside Booth, who promptly snaked an arm around her waist as she took a moment to reload and momentarily immobilise her pistol. She handed Booth the gun while she reached for her own set of earmuffs, and he winced when he realised the weapon was slick with nervous sweat, something that was undoubtedly going to affect his partner's grip. Still, Brennan's composure was firmly intact, and her face barely registered a response when Alex fired her weapon and missed the bullseye by a fraction of an inch. It was closer than either of them had come in the initial round, and Brennan knew she was going to have to hit the centre of the target if she wanted to stand a chance. Alex clearly realised that she had put her at a distinct disadvantage, and returned to Teresa's side to gloat accordingly. Brennan tried not to notice the commiserating looks that were already being sent in her direction.

Booth tugged on his partner's sleeve, pulling her aside for a moment and gesturing for her to remove her earmuffs. "You know, if you pull this off, Bones, I might let you fill out another request to be able to carry a concealed weapon."

"I thought that was my constitutional right, anyway?"

"Yeah, but this time I might actually _grant _it."

Brennan's eyes visibly narrowed. "You're trying to bribe me, Booth, which would suggest that you think I have a very limited chance of success and I require an added incentive to achieve my goal."

"No," he shook his head vehemently. "I know you can hit that target, OK, Bones? And I know you're gonna show all those idiots who bet against you just how stupid they really are."

"They're placing bets?" Brennan asked anxiously, looking faintly mortified.

"Yeah, and if I wasn't a recovering addict, I'd put all my money on you."

Brennan's cheeks coloured slightly, and the beginnings of a smile began to tug at her pursed lips. "Are you going to be mad at me if I miss, Booth?"

He shook his head again. "No, because that's not going to happen." Seeing his partner's poise begin to slip slightly, he handed her the gun, offering her a reassuring smile as he echoed the sentiment he had once spoken to Cam. "I'm with you, Bones – all the way, and nothing's ever going to change that. But you can do this. I know you can."

Brennan nodded, closing her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, they were filled with resolution. She strode towards the firing point, her eyes fixed attentively on the target, and she took several cleansing breaths, glancing towards the wind flag that was billowing lightly in the breeze. She cocked the gun, removing the safety, and levelled it steadily towards the target, using the iron sight to enhance her aim. Her heart was pounding frantically as she assumed her firing stance, and the sound reverberated in her ears; disconcertingly loud because of their protective covering. She adjusted the gun by a fraction of an inch, and the surge of adrenaline as she readied herself to pull the trigger was almost paralysing.

Brennan realised this was the first time she had ever mulled over the importance of a single shot. She had killed two people, but she had always been in situations where she had been forced to _act _– not react. When she and Booth were in immediate danger, her response was instinctual – she couldn't afford to hesitate when their lives were on the line, and contemplating the ramifications of her actions never occurred to her until the threat was immobilised. But Booth had to lie in wait for his deserving prey to become vulnerable, and it suddenly occurred to her how courageous - how focussed – her partner must have been, to pull the trigger after he'd had an indefinite period of time to analyse the repercussions of his actions. No wonder he struggled to reconcile his guilt. Her thoughts were suddenly consumed with Booth's words of encouragement; he believed in her, and Brennan wanted to ensure that his faith was warranted. Although the situation was hardly comparable, she wanted to show her brave and noble partner that she could be strong in the face of adversity, too.

She pulled the trigger, and though she knew it was a logical impossibility, time momentarily seemed to stand still. She closed her eyes, loath to acknowledge her bullet's final destination, and then the disembodied sound of cheering and catcalls penetrated the density of her earmuffs. She felt the gun being eased carefully out of her grasp, and her eyes flew open when two strong, but gentle arms encircled the top of her legs and lifted her effortlessly into the air, spinning her around in dizzying circles until she was smiling uninhibitedly. She tossed aside her earmuffs and was promptly assailed by a round of resounding applause, which caused her smile to swiftly evolve into a full-blown grin. Much to the group's collective amusement, Brennan began to pound lightly against her partner's chest in a bid to worm her way out of his oppressive embrace, but Booth continued to whirl her around in maddening circles until she finally gave in and burst into laughter.

"Booth, put me down," she protested feebly, lacing her arms around her partner's neck in an attempt to regain her equilibrium. Booth beamed up at her with a cheek-splitting grin, his features glowing with such palpable adoration that even Brennan couldn't misinterpret what he was trying to convey. Nobody had ever looked at her like that before; a look that could make her cheeks flush with pleasure and her heart race against her ribcage. Her stomach started churning with a heady mixture of apprehension and excitement, and their dense layers of clothing couldn't detract from the exhilarating sensation of being bolstered in her partner's embrace. At that moment, Brennan wanted nothing more than to bow her head and kiss Booth with a longing that was almost overwhelming in its intensity, but she knew their prolonged clinch was already eliciting a raised eyebrow or two.

"You're going to hurt your back," she murmured directly into his ear, grazing her fingertips across the nape of his neck as he gently set her down, allowing her to appraise the perforated target for the first time since she had fired her fateful shot.

Brennan's bullet had penetrated the upper right hand corner of the bullseye with awe-inspiring accuracy, and the neat hole was resting proudly within the confines of the tiny circle. Alex's effort was only a half-inch to the right of hers, but this time, there was no doubt about who had left the winning mark.

Calls of congratulations reverberated around the firing range, and Simon sent a crisp salute in Brennan's direction, winking to convey his pleasure at the unexpected outcome.

Brennan smiled at him gratefully, and then tore her eyes away from Booth in order to locate a glowering Alex, hoping to finally see some measure of respect on the Agent's disdainful features. Instead, Alex sauntered towards her, her perpetual sneer still firmly in place.

"You know, Dr Brennan, I would just love to know what Seeley said to you before you fired that round off. Did he promise to fuck you long and hard if you made the grade?" Alex taunted, snorting derisively. "Because God knows, I could move mountains if he was offering himself up as a reward, too."

"Alex…" Teresa called warningly, shaking her head almost imperceptibly as a sudden silence settled over the group.

"You do know that it's only a matter of time before he realises that he's wasted on a frigid bitch like you and gets himself a better model, right?" Alex demanded quietly, her eyes gleaming with malice when she noticed Brennan flinch almost imperceptibly in response to her jibe.

"That's where you're wrong, Johnson, because women don't come any better than Bones," Booth retorted, and the low cadence of his tone did little to detract from its foreboding quality. "Now, you'd better show a little grace and give my partner the respect she deserves, or I swear I'll - "

"Booth," Brennan interjected, placing a placating hand on her partner's forearm. She stalked towards Alex until they were toe-to-toe, eyeing the smaller woman intently. "I think we've all established who the bitch is around here, Agent Johnson, and it certainly isn't me," she stated in a strong, but measured tone, leaning forwards until their heated breath was on the verge of mingling. "I kicked your ass," she enunciated imperiously, "Now deal with it."

Alex's small palms were deceptively powerful, and Brennan sucked in a breath when they collided solidly with her chest. The same blow had felled an unsuspecting Bob earlier on that morning, but Brennan's slender frame was coiled with tension, and it only took her a matter of moments to regain her balance. She captured the fist that was hurtling towards her jaw, twisting the Agent's arm until Alex emitted an agonised grunt. Then she flipped her effortlessly onto her back, leaving the blonde gasping futilely for breath as the jarring impact rendered her winded.

"All right, break it up!" Simon yelled, rushing forwards when he saw Brennan lifting up her hiking boot with the intention of compressing Alex's windpipe.

"Come on, Bones, she's not worth it," Booth assured his partner, grasping her shoulders and pulling her away from her quarry while Simon hefted a shame-faced Alex to her feet, regarding her with far more concern than she deserved.

"Apologise," he demanded, regarding the blonde intently, but Alex shook her head violently, evading his gaze. Simon's eyes visibly narrowed. "Johnson, you're gonna shake Dr Brennan's hand and say you're sorry, or else I'm going to send you packing and I won't have any qualms about telling your boss why."

Alex emitted a noise that was half-laugh, half-sob, and she regarded Simon's obdurate features until her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"God, I feel like I'm in kindergarten again," she murmured feebly, before hesitantly turning her attention to Brennan. "You're right," she announced with surprising sincerity, "I underestimated your capabilities and you kicked my ass – fair and square. I'm just being a sore loser. I'm sorry," she choked out, extending a trembling hand.

Brennan regarded the appendage warily, as though she thoroughly expected the hateful Agent to break her wrist if she reached out to shake it, but Booth nudged her shoulder and she hesitantly accepted the gesture. When Alex offered her a tremulous smile and didn't display any murderous intentions, Brennan's features began to soften slightly.

"It's OK," she assured her after a moment's hesitation, and Simon broke into a wide grin, despite the distrustful nature of Brennan's tone.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Alex's shoulders and giving her a crushing squeeze. "There's hope for you yet, Johnson," he deadpanned, and Alex regarded him incredulously.

"You're squishing me," she retorted flatly, and Simon promptly removed his arm, looking faintly embarrassed. "I didn't say that I minded," she added in a far more flirtatious tone, and even though the Guide rolled his eyes in exasperation, he was quick to return her hesitant smile.

Booth sent a curious look in Simon's direction, quirking his eyebrows in an unspoken question, and he watched in a mixture of disbelief and amusement as the Guide's cheeks coloured slightly in response.

Simon cleared his throat, quickly regaining his composure. "This is turning into a circus," he muttered, emitting one of his notorious whistles to regain the rowdy group's attention. "Right everyone, we're going to start the second heat in a couple of minutes, so I'd like you all to calm down and re-assemble in front of your respective targets, please."

The Agents obligingly began to scatter across the span of the firing range, and Simon turned to regard Brennan with a warm smile. "I think we can safely assume that Agent Johnson won't be questioning your capabilities again," he informed her, shooting a wry smile in Alex's direction before patting Brennan lightly on the shoulder. "You were great up there, Dr Brennan. Well done."

"Thank you," Brennan said courteously, before poking her partner lightly in the ribs. "Think you can beat that?" she demanded, her soft smile belying her challenging tone.

"Well, you're a pretty hard act to follow, Bones," Booth conceded warmly, resting his right hand against the small of his partner's back as they strode towards their target. "I guess it depends on what you're planning to bribe me with," he teased, feeling a little reckless.

"Well, as soon as we get a moment to ourselves, maybe I'll show you," Brennan countered in her best attempt at a seductive tone, gazing at her partner with iridescent eyes. The hand that was softly caressing her lower back promptly stilled against her spine, and suddenly Booth's arm was around her shoulders and he was pulling her towards him in a half embrace.

"You know you're going to have to make good on that promise, right?" he murmured into her hair, and Brennan shivered slightly, gently pushing him away.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Booth," she warned him, but she couldn't prevent her eyes from crinkling in amusement as he approached the firing point and donned his protective gear, sending a disarming grin in her direction.

"Watch and learn, baby," he proclaimed, picking up the gun and tensing in anticipation as he waited for Simon's approval.

Brennan's gasp caught in her throat as Booth levelled his weapon and proceeded to obliterate the target's inner circle. The cluster of bullets was so finely placed that they quickly created a single, gaping hole in the heart of the frail paper. The feral glint in her partner's eyes as he repeatedly drilled round after round into the bullseye - hitting it squarely once, twice… five times - made Brennan's stomach clench reflexively, especially considering the fact that Booth barely even paused for breath while accomplishing the impossible feat.

Booth turned towards her when his magazine was spent, but the jubilant expression she had anticipated was conspicuously absent. Instead, her partner's features were hollow and entirely devoid of pride, and she knew it was because his exceptional talent had been honed at the expense of others. She approached him gingerly, removing the pistol from his unfailingly steady hands, but not before she noticed that his knuckles were blanched white.

"Are you OK?" Brennan asked, in what she hoped was a comforting tone. She sought out her partner's gaze, offering him a soft smile, and felt a twinge of relief when Booth's grim expression brightened slightly and his lifeless eyes slowly began to regain their sparkle.

In the face of Bones' unequivocal understanding, the knot in Booth's stomach rapidly dissipated and, finding no traces of censure or fear in Brennan's fathomless azure eyes, he nodded wearily. "Yeah Bones, I'm OK," he reassured her, a grin slowly beginning to spread across his features as he regarded his partner with renewed confidence, "And something tells me that I'm gonna be feeling a whole lot better soon..."


	10. Chapter 10

**__**

Oh God, this was gruelling. I still can't believe the volume of readers this fic has amassed, and the pressure increases exponentially with every chapter – especially as I know you all had such high expectations for this update in particular ;-) Hopefully I fulfilled them. I might have to take a few days off to recuperate, though LOL.

**_I continue to be astounded by the amazing response to this story, and I can't thank you enough for all your words of encouragement. Please keep them coming!_**

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"So… do you want to… I mean, are we going to… you know… share again tonight?" Booth stammered, gesturing weakly towards his sleeping bag as a recently-showered Brennan proceeded to strip down to a fresh set of long johns. "Oh God, my eyes!" he teased, peeking through the gap in his fingers to appraise his less-than-amused partner. "Are you planning on working your way through every colour of the rainbow before we leave, Bones? Exactly how many of those things did you bring with you anyway?"

"Enough," Brennan retorted acerbically, "And there are seven colours in the optical spectrum Booth - none of which are black."

The figure-hugging two-piece, while still far from glamorous, was a lot more complimentary than the bland grey ensemble that Bones had sported yesterday. In fact, she looked stunning in her simplicity, and Booth watched, transfixed, as his partner poured a liberal amount of green-tinted moisturiser onto her small hands, smearing it evenly over her flawless features. The lotion's divine smell quickly permeated the confines of the tent, and Booth was mesmerised by the rhythmic pattern of Brennan's delicate fingers as she kneaded the cream into her lustrous skin.

"What is that gunk made of, Bones? Cucumbers?" he asked, and she nodded, regarding him warily.

"Why? Would you like to make a sarcastic remark about that, too?"

"No," he countered wryly, "It just… smells really nice, that's all."

Brennan's lips quirked a little, and she impulsively reached out to daub some of the moisturiser onto the bridge of her partner's nose. "Here, have some," she teased, and Booth squawked in protest, wiping off the offending splodge with his thumb and promptly spreading it over his partner's forehead.

"Nah, I don't need any girly potions to keep me looking good, Bones. I was just blessed that way."

"Blessed?" Brennan rolled her eyes. "You do know that your prevailing features have nothing to do with an imaginary entity's grand design and everything to do with your genes, right, Booth?" The question was rhetorical, but Booth opened his mouth to object regardless.

"Bones, how many times do I have to tell you to show a little respect for my – "

"And don't try and tell me that you don't have a skincare regimen when you clearly preen and pamper yourself on a daily basis," Brennan interjected, holding out a hand to ward off her partner's protests.

"Soap and water, Bones," Booth informed her with a cocky grin, "Soap and water."

Brennan made a show of studying her partner's countenance, picking up the torch and shining it in his face until he wrestled it out of her hands. "I suppose that would explain the deteriorating condition of your epidermis," she conceded with feigned solemnity. "As we get older, our collagen levels start to deplete and our skin loses its elasticity. You already have quite prominent furrows here," she gently traced the arch of his brow, "and here," she concluded, her fingers roving over the expansive crow's feet encircling her partner's eyes, which promptly narrowed in outrage.

"OK, so first I'm a crippled geriatric and now I'm Freddy Kruger? You're really not good for a guy's self-esteem, Bones." He negated to mention that his partner's soft touch more than made up for her impertinent observations.

Brennan looked confused for a moment, and then shrugged. "Well, it's really not difficult to appeal to your sense of vanity, Booth. It appears to be quite pronounced." She took no heed of her partner's affronted expression, and ploughed ahead regardless. "Angela has a variety of theories about men who wax their chests," she informed him, quirking an eyebrow pointedly in his direction.

"Bones, I've spent a lot of time honing this physique, OK? I don't want it covered in a blanket of fur. And from my experience, women prefer…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "You know what? I'm not even getting into this conversation with you."

"I don't know why you're getting agitated, Booth. You're right, I personally prefer torsos that aren't encumbered with hair… although I imagine the friction could be quite pleasurable in some instances; especially when rubbing against my - "

"STOP!"

Brennan obligingly closed her mouth, pulling on her pyjamas and fighting the urge to smile when her partner heaved an aggrieved sigh. Then she impulsively pounced on his backpack, triumphantly emerging with a toiletry bag that was considerably larger than her own compact vanity case. "I knew it," she announced gleefully, her laughter intensifying as Booth engaged in a tug of war with her in an attempt to preserve his dignity.

"You really have no concept of boundaries, do you, Bones?"

"There _is_ a moisturiser in here, isn't there?" she demanded unrepentantly, and Booth was so enchanted by his partner's burgeoning playful streak that it took all of his willpower to maintain his outraged façade.

"Yeah, well clearly I need to try a different brand," he muttered darkly, his lips twitching slightly at the corners. "These lines are full of character, OK, Bones? They enhance my charisma."

Brennan snorted, her eyes twinkling. "Whatever you say," she murmured noncommittally. "It's not like you have to worry anyway, Booth. You're a man. Society has a far more tolerant attitude towards your flaws."

"Now you're just being cruel," Booth remarked piteously, cultivating a wounded expression.

"Well, you said it hurts to look at me," Brennan retorted, folding her arms petulantly.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Bones, not an eyesore," Booth assured her, sending a beguiling grin in his partner's direction until she shook her head in resignation, ducking her head to hide her smile.

Brennan began brushing out the kinks in her hair, surreptitiously studying her partner as he hastily donned a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants and shed his sweater in favour of a T-shirt. Her heart was already pounding its approval, and its pace increased dramatically when Booth clambered into the right hand side of the double sleeping bag and patted the space next to him invitingly.

"So, are you coming to bed, honey?" he teased, and Brennan regarded him as though he had temporarily taken leave of his senses.

"You know, we actually have a five-point lead now, so sharing a _tent_ isn't even imperative - let alone a sleeping bag," she informed him bluntly.

"Oh, yeah. Well… OK." Booth swallowed his embarrassment and struggled to contain his disappointment as he reluctantly shrugged his way out of the sleeping bag he had just shimmied into. "You should take the double with you, though. It's still pretty cold out there."

"Yes, it is, which is why I think it would be advisable for us to continue sharing regardless. Even if it's not strictly a… necessity… anymore," Brennan reasoned, her cheeks turning a vivid pink in the process. "Your feet seem to be highly susceptible to the cold and I – "

"You're sticking around to be my personal foot warmer, Bones? I'm touched, I truly am," Booth interjected, plonking his feet unceremoniously onto his partner's lap and grinning when she pushed them aside in disgust.

Brennan didn't fail to notice Booth's wince as he manoeuvred himself back into the confines of the sleeping bag, and she regarded him pensively for a moment, until he pitched a sock at her head to draw her out of her reverie. She tossed it back at him, hitting him squarely on the nose and bursting into laughter when he hurled it back towards her, bouncing it off her forehead. They grinned at each other inanely, until Booth's mirth gradually evolved into curiosity.

"What were you thinking about before?" he asked softly, and Brennan gave him an enigmatic smile.

"I was thinking that we finally appear to have a moment to ourselves," she confessed, almost shyly, and Booth was captivated by the flush that suddenly suffused her features.

"Yeah, we do," he agreed lightly, studying his partner with perceptive brown eyes. Bones was evidently weighing up her options, and his heart constricted a little when he saw the uncharacteristic uncertainty in her conflicted expression. "Bones, you know you don't have to look for a get-out clause, right? If you were just… joking around… earlier, that's OK," he ventured softly, and Brennan glanced at him sharply.

"It sounds like you're the one who's searching for a get-out clause, Booth."

He shook his head violently. "No! I just…" he hesitated, deciding to proceed with caution, "Look, it's not like you even specified what you had in mind, so I just wanted to make it clear that I don't… you know… have any… expectations or anything."

Brennan watched him squirm for a moment, and then her eyes began to glint mischievously. "But you were the one who asked for a reward in the first place, Booth," she reminded him pointedly, "So surely you must've had some notion as to what you wanted it to be?"

Booth stared at her for a moment, his Adam's apple bobbing prominently in his throat. "Yeah… well… I…" he trailed off, heaving a plaintive sigh, and decided for probably the millionth time since meeting this infuriatingly perfect woman that voicing his true feelings wasn't worth the risk. "Just… never mind, OK, Bones?"

He sank onto his side, rolling away from her incisive gaze, but not before Brennan realised that sadness and disappointment were vying for control of his countenance. She cursed her innate inclination to overanalyse - to seek clarification when it was clearly superfluous to requirements. Booth was trying to be chivalrous, and she'd purposefully made him uncomfortable because she couldn't contend with her own insecurities.

She tapped him gently on the shoulder. "Sit up and turn around," she murmured, and Booth appraised her suspiciously.

"What? Why?"

"Because I asked you to. After what I had to endure yesterday, the least you can do is show a little trust, Booth."

"I…" Booth moistened his suddenly dry lips as he absorbed the low cadence of his partner's tone, "What exactly are you planning to do to me, Bones?"

"Turn around and you'll find out," she insisted, hastily wriggling into her own sleeping bag to ward off the cold. Booth's gaze was penetrating in its intensity, and when he finally pivoted to face the back of the tent, Brennan found herself swallowing apprehensively.

Her hands were trembling faintly as she scooted closer, easing down her partner's sleeping bag until it pooled around his waist. Goose flesh instantly rose on Booth's bare, well-muscled forearms, and she rubbed them lightly in a bid to instil some warmth, but only succeeded in eliciting a shiver.

"Bones…" Booth's voice was hoarse as his partner encircled his waist from behind, her palms travelling the length of his torso until they settled just below his shoulders. Her touch wasn't explicitly provocative, but that didn't stop his crotch from tightening appreciatively in response. The fabric of his T-shirt was relatively thin, but the cold stopped registering when Bones pressed her chest flush against his back, the fullness of her breasts settling tantalisingly between his shoulder blades.

"Just relax," Brennan whispered, and her warm breath caressed the nape of his neck, forcing him to shift slightly to accommodate the growing protrusion in his thankfully capacious sweatpants.

Then he was being jerked backwards and tugged upwards simultaneously, and he let out an agonised yelp when his back wrenched in protest, emitting an aberrant grinding sound.

"Now that's just not fair, Bones," he groaned, as he was pitched forwards and pushed unceremoniously onto his stomach. The sleeping bag wasn't especially effective at cushioning his arousal as Brennan rested her hands firmly against his hips, forcing his pelvis against the floor of the tent until he had to purse his lips to keep from crying out in relief. Bones used her considerable strength to twist his torso towards her chest, pinning his arm behind his back in the process, and Booth grunted when his beleaguered body once again voiced its objections.

"Maybe you should consider a change of career, Bones," he ground out through gritted teeth, "You could've made a killing as a professional wrestler. You could even keep 'Bones' as your stage name, because you know, you'd be pretty good at _breaking them_," he concluded as sickening crunch reverberated around the tent.

"You're not telling me that you actually watch that gratuitous, contrived excuse for a spectator sport?" Brennan demanded distastefully.

"No, I'm telling you that there's a reason why chiropractors haven't been accepted by the medical profession," he whimpered, feeling his partner's stomach heaving slightly as she shook with silent laughter. Then, she forced his back to attain another awkward angle, and Booth hissed when her bony knee dug into the base of his spine.

"No pain, no gain, Booth," Brennan teased, her fingers settling lightly against her partner's neck to stop him from shaking his head furiously while she continued to manipulate his limbs.

"You know, that's the slogan of sadists, Bones, and the fact that you even know that expression – well, it worries me," Booth informed her earnestly, sighing in relief when his partner's hands lightly patted his back to indicate that she had finally decided to release him from his torment.

"Come on, you can't tell me that doesn't feel better," Brennan cajoled, and Booth muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, turning to face her experimentally. His partner's brutal ministrations had undeniably alleviated the pressure centred in his lower back, and the perpetual twinge that had been plaguing him seemed to have vanished without a trace.

"OK, so there appears to be a method behind your madness," he conceded begrudgingly, his lips curling into a smile as he observed his partner's slightly flustered demeanour. Brennan regarded him attentively for a moment, waging some kind of internal war, and then nodded almost imperceptibly.

"I've corrected the misalignments, Booth, but I could loosen the muscles for you, too… if you want?"

Booth's eyes narrowed slightly. "I think I've been tortured enough for one night, Bones. Show some mercy."

"No… I…" Brennan hesitated, looking uncharacteristically shy, "I think it would fall more within the realms of a 'nice relaxing massage.'"

Booth swallowed audibly. "Bones… you don't have to…."

"No, it's fine… I…" Brennan sucked in a cleansing breath, before clearing her suddenly dry throat, "Take your top off and lie down again," she said decisively, indicating that he should re-assume a prostrate position.

Booth stared at her for a moment, and then pulled off his T-shirt, lying on his stomach and resting his head against his forearms. "God, it's cold," he muttered, getting some measure of relief from the icy air when Bones shuffled towards him and settled herself at his side. She blew on her hands to warm them, and then tentatively reached out to knead the unyielding flesh encompassing her partner's broad upper back. Booth flinched slightly, clearly expecting to suffer through another agonising regime, but Brennan stroked her palms lightly over his shoulders until he relaxed into the languid rhythm of her ministrations.

"OK?" she enquired softly, hoping that her shallow breathing wasn't easily discernable. Contrary to her facetious assertions, her partner was in exemplary physical condition, and watching Booth's firm muscles twitch and contract in response to her touch was almost as alluring as the feel of his sleek skin rippling beneath her fingers.

"Mmm," Booth murmured in the midst of a contented sigh. The heat of his partner's touch warmed him from the inside out, igniting a fire in the pit of his stomach that rapidly dissipated the cold-induced tension coursing through his rigid physique. The pleasurable sensation radiated through his limbs, and he was lulled into a state of catatonic bliss as Bones soothingly, but skilfully manipulated his taut muscles until they willingly succumbed to her capable hands. He shifted slightly in deference to his lingering erection – the one part of his anatomy that wasn't lying in a state of peaceful repose.

"You're amazing, Bones," he mumbled, and Brennan smiled softly, running her thumbs along the length of his spine and gently smoothing the bunched skin outwards in an expansive circular motion. Her eyes roved over the myriad of scars that were littering Booth's otherwise unblemished skin, silently cataloguing their placement and probable origin. The disfigured tissue came in all shapes and sizes. The small, round, light pink scar just above Booth's right kidney had clearly been inflicted by a bullet; whereas the puckered, blistered tissue near the bottom of his lumbar curve was reminiscent of a third-degree burn. Its precise dimensions suggested that a white-hot metal rod had been pressed against Booth's epidermis for an excruciating period of time, and the deep-seated damage led Brennan to believe that his captors had meted out the punishment on more than one occasion. There were two jagged scars to the right of T5 and T6, probable knife wounds, and the faint diagonal lines running across the span of his upper back and shoulders were remnants of what must have been a brutal whipping. It was clear that Booth had suffered for survival on several occasions, and Brennan's chest constricted painfully as she traced - with trembling fingertips - the vestiges of his harrowing past.

"I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely, "I'm sorry I never asked you about – "

"Bones, there's no use in dredging up old wounds, OK?" Booth stated in a blunt tone.

"But if you ever wanted to talk…" she offered tentatively, her hands momentarily stilling against her partner's spine.

"You'd be the first person I'd turn to," Booth assured her softly. When Bones didn't voice a response, he rolled over to appraise her, surprised to find her lost in a melancholy reverie.

"Come on, Bones, cheer up," he murmured, gently tucking an errant stand of hair behind his partner's ear.

Brennan sighed, regarding him apologetically. "I just… I don't like the thought of you hurting like that, Booth."

"It's in the past," he reiterated firmly, and for a moment his eyes seemed to darken, but then a lazy smile gradually worked its way across his features. He tapped his partner lightly on the knee. "Trust me, Bones, I am in a very, very happy place right now," he assured her, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"I take it that means you want me to continue?" Brennan asked wryly, unable to stop herself from bursting into laughter when Booth nodded enthusiastically, rolling over with all the eagerness of a puppy waiting to have its tummy tickled.

Brennan obligingly resumed her gentle massage, momentarily fascinated by the motion of her partner's ribcage as he breathed steadily in and out. His respiration slowed considerably as she continued to knead and coax his muscles into acquiescence, and the realisation that she was bringing some measure of peace to a man who had clearly spent too long at war made her heart swell with an indefinable emotion.

"Is it OK if I…" she trailed off, hovering above him, and Booth grunted his assent before she'd even finished voicing her request. Loath to shed her sleeping bag, Brennan was relieved to find that the constrictive fabric offered just enough leverage for her to straddle the span of her partner's hips. She did, so, gingerly, and was grateful for the abundance of material between them as she became acutely aware of the wetness pooling between her thighs. She rested her weight lightly against her partner's haunches, biting back a moan when the fleeting pressure only served to exacerbate the ache of desire that was making her painfully sensitive to Booth's proximity. It didn't help that Booth was making little noises of appreciation in the back of his throat; a primal sound that was all too evocative of… more intimate situations.

Brennan had never been one to let her imagination run away with her before, but as she continued to caress the smooth planes of her partner's powerful physique, she couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to explore every facet of his anatomy… with her hands, and with her mouth. If this was any other man, Brennan would have no qualms about putting her wayward thoughts into action, but this wasn't just about satiating her biological urges anymore. She and Booth had established a bond that transcended the parameters of all her previous relationships, but it was a bond that was ultimately indefinable. They were more than just colleagues; he was the best friend she'd ever had, but sometimes it felt like they were on the cusp of something extraordinary; something that could shatter her jaded beliefs and banish the loneliness that continued to gnaw at her in the wake of her failed relationships.

Denying the existence of that desperate longing was no longer an option, but determining whether it was reciprocated was more problematic. Booth sometimes made elaborate speeches that shook her to the core, speeches that extolled the merits of things she'd never experienced before. She didn't know whether her partner was playing Devil's Advocate and taunting her with the knowledge of what she could never have, or suggesting that he could be the one to change her perspectives.

Brennan weathered Booth's sentimental observations about how she was special, about how she deserved someone who could show her that love and monogamy were practicable options - and sometimes, during rare moments of whimsy, she wondered whether they could be construed as romantic overtures. But Booth had once preached about professional boundaries, about how some people shouldn't sleep together because there was too much to lose, and when she considered the desolate void in her life after Booth's supposed death, the thought of losing him again – of shattering the sanctity of what they already had – stopped her from taking that leap of faith.

Booth's own self-restraint only reinforced her temperance; he was a red-blooded alpha male and, from Brennan's experience, such men didn't hesitate to act on their sexual impulses. Booth had never been proactive about claiming her as his territory – he made petulant displays of possessiveness when she had a man in her life, but they seemed to be rooted in his misguided need to protect her, rather than jealousy. Why would he continue to watch her fumble her way through superficial relationships if he wanted to offer her something more meaningful?

Of course, yesterday's confession had confused her. Booth seemed to be insinuating that he was living in a state of self-imposed celibacy because he couldn't compromise his ideals. Of course, he hadn't expressly stated whether _she _was that ideal, but surely, if that was the case, he would have confessed to his feelings a long time ago? Then again, Booth was Catholic - prone to abstinence in the face of uncertainty; someone who would rather torture himself with the 'what-ifs' than take a reckless course of action. After all, he had tried to attain his ideal with Rebecca and failed – admittedly, through no fault of his own, but Brennan knew that she was more high maintenance than Booth's former girlfriend. The last four years had served to illustrate that she and Booth had diametrically opposed views on pretty much everything. Fifty percent of marriages ended in divorce, and that was when the individuals concerned harboured delusions of compatibility, so the statistical probability of their relationship succeeding was nominal. Brennan knew that it still hadn't shattered Booth's faith in the storybook notion of happily ever after, but as an atheist, she also knew that her partner's faith was often misplaced. It was idiotic of her to hope for something beyond the realms of possibility, but she couldn't explain why the thought of abandoning that dream caused hot tears to well in her eyes.

Booth was suspended in the realms of semi-consciousness when the first bead of moisture hit his back. It registered somewhere amidst his haze of contentment, but it wasn't until the second droplet streaked down the hollow of his spine that he realised something was amiss.

"It's a little cold to be working up a sweat, Bones," he deadpanned, his features furrowing with concern when he heard his partner's strangled laughter.

Brennan shuffled away from him as hastily as her sleeping bag would allow her to, swiping furiously at her eyes before Booth inevitably whirled around to face her. "I think that maybe… maybe I should sleep in my own tent tonight," she asserted, fighting to keep her tone even as she hastily shoved her meagre belongings back into her backpack.

"What? Why?" Booth demanded, hastily pulling on his T-shirt and reaching out to clasp her fumbling hands before she had chance to zip the compartment shut. He heard the barely perceptible hitch in his partner's breathing and grasped Brennan's shoulders, forcing her to face him. His stomach churned when he saw the tumultuous mixture of raw emotions in her downcast eyes, but Bones cringed away from him when he settled a finger beneath her trembling chin.

"Please don't touch me, Booth," Brennan stated flatly, and he shook his head in bewilderment.

"Bones, I don't understand. What did I do?" he pleaded, his tone laced with anguish.

"It's more a case of what you didn't do," she informed him bitterly, only exacerbating his confusion.

"OK, you're gonna have to be a little bit more explicit here, Bones, because right now you're talking in riddles." Brennan merely regarded him disdainfully, and so Booth scurried ahead of her, blocking her exit. "I'm not letting you go until you tell me what's wrong," he informed her bluntly.

He was expecting a litany of protests, or maybe even a punch in the gut, but nothing could have prepared him for the look of wild-eyed fury on his partner's face as she whirled around to face him.

"What am I to you, Booth?" she demanded tersely, and even though her voice was quiet in deference to their fellow campers, the lack of volume did nothing to detract from the urgency of her tone.

Booth stared at her for a moment, his mouth opening and closing in silent shock as Brennan studied him expectantly.

"How can you ask me to be explicit and accuse me of speaking in riddles, when you _deliberately _make it hard for me to understand your intentions?" she railed, pointing at him accusatorily. "I mean, you said that our personal and professional lives shouldn't intersect; you said that there was a line we could never cross, but you don't treat me like a colleague, Booth. The things you've done for me, the way you look at me sometimes I just… I don't understand," she concluded desperately, her distress increasingly evident.

Booth regarded her sheepishly. "Bones, I…"

"No, let me finish," she interjected, raising her hand warningly, "Because I am sick of your constant stream of contradictions, Booth. One minute you're telling me that there are some people you should never sleep with, because there's too much at stake, and then the next minute you're looking at me with your puppy dog eyes and telling me to be open to the prospect of everlasting love." She shook her head despairingly, heaving a frustrated sigh. "And it doesn't stop there. A few months ago, you said that you were sexually active, that you 'do fine,' and then yesterday you informed me that you've been living like a monk for the past two years. So at this stage, I'm not sure whether the prominent erection that was tenting your sleeping bag when you turned around was because you find me sexually alluring, or because you've been deprived of female company for so long." Brennan took a small measure of satisfaction from the flush that suddenly spread across her partner's features.

"Bones, for God's sake, keep your voice down," Booth hissed, immediately regretting his choice of words when he saw the hurt clouding his partner's features.

"Well, if that's all you're concerned about, I suppose I have my answer," Brennan retorted acerbically, promptly reaching for her backpack and moving to unzip the tent with trembling hands.

"Bones, wait!" When his partner didn't heed his request, Booth reached out to haul her retreating form towards him, and his heart constricted when Brennan turned her head away from him in a futile attempt to conceal the rivulets of tears streaming down her cheeks. "Hey… hey…" he murmured, as she struggled violently against him, eventually acquiescing to his superior strength and slumping in defeat. He wrapped her tightly in his arms then, cradling her against his chest, and he inwardly decried his idiocy when he felt her shoulders begin to shake with silent sobs.

"Bones, I'm so sorry," he murmured, burying his face into the crook of her neck. "I tried to tell you, to show you – "

"But I'm not equipped to read the subtext in your allegorical speeches, Booth," Brennan choked out, "You talk about the beauty of making love and saving yourself for the right person - the one you're meant to spend the rest of your life with - but you never say who that is, and I... I just want you to stop skirting around the issue and tell me the _truth_."

Booth cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to assume eye contact. "You mean everything to me, Bones. Everything, OK?"

His voice was gruff with repressed emotion, and even in the murky torchlight, Brennan could see that his eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. She sucked in a shuddering breath, and then reached out to tenderly stroke his cheek, smiling a little when he pressed a kiss into her palm. "Then why – "

"Because I was scared," Booth admitted, no longer afraid of the repercussions. "I was scared that you didn't feel the same way, and I was terrified of ruining what we already have."

"I'm scared too," she admitted, lowering her gaze, "Because what if everything isn't enough, Booth? I mean, you felt that way about Rebecca once – "

"No." His voice was forceful and uncompromising in its conviction. "I have never felt _anything_ remotely resembling what I feel for you, Bones, so don't even try and compare those situations." He pulled her closer, his hands tracing intimate circles against the small of her back. "I can't lose you. I won't."

Brennan hesitated, her expression uncertain. "You say that now, but what if – "

"There are always what-ifs, Bones," Booth interjected in an exasperated tone, "But they're what stopped me from admitting how I feel about you for the last two years, so I'm not going to entertain them anymore, OK?" He gave his partner a gentle squeeze, smoothing back her hair as she regarded him intently, "These past couple of days have made me realise that no matter what life throws at us, we can take it on… but only if we do it together, Bones."

"We can't guarantee a lifetime's worth of happiness on the basis of two days, Booth," Brennan countered, shaking her head wearily.

"I know that, and I'm not saying that it's gonna be smooth sailing all the way, either. But we're not gonna know unless we try." He clasped her hands, running his thumb over the bridge of her knuckles. "We can make it work, Bones, I know we can, we just have to do what we've done all our lives - face our fears head on. And I know you're not a coward," he murmured, eliciting a sharp glance. "Don't you dare think about running away from this," Booth concluded intently, "Because I'll follow you to the ends of the Earth if I have to, Bones."

Brennan hesitated, and then nodded almost imperceptibly, using her sleeve to wipe away the remnants of her tears. "Promise?" she ventured meekly, her breath catching in her throat when Booth gently claimed her lips with his own. His exploration was tentative at first, and she savoured every second of the ephemeral contact, her heart pounding wildly against her ribcage. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she absorbed the heat of Booth's soft, but assertive lips pressing lightly against her own, and she whimpered when he wound his fingers through her hair, lovingly caressing the nape of her neck. She deepened the kiss then, smiling against Booth's mouth as she pulled him impossibly closer, and her stomach quivered in appreciation as the warmth of him washed over her. Her partner's dexterous endeavours were inducing a heady sensation that was unparalleled in its intensity, and Brennan lingered over her withdrawal, allowing the exhilarating emotions to flood her senses.

Feeling almost deliriously woozy, she quickly returned for more, tracing her partner's pliant lower lip with the tip of her tongue. Booth parted his lips to allow her access, and they swallowed a reciprocal moan as velvet met velour and their tongues began a leisurely duel for supremacy. He tasted even better than she'd anticipated, and she immersed herself in her new-found addiction, her hands slipping beneath Booth's T-shirt to revisit the smooth expanse of his back. She heaved a mournful sigh when he reluctantly wrenched himself away from her, and his fingertips grazed her throbbing pulse point before caressing her cheek with infinite tenderness.

"I promise," Booth echoed, a little belatedly, regarding his partner with twinkling eyes as he fought to regain his breath. He shifted to the right of the sleeping bag, adjusting the fabric to its original position as he settled onto his back, and Brennan accepted the unspoken invitation, wriggling into the confined space and promptly curling up against him. She rested her head against his shoulder and looped an arm around his waist, and he swathed her in a secure embrace, grunting slightly when she shifted her leg to rest over the top of his own. Brennan sucked in a sharp breath when she was provided with an intriguing insight into the extent of her partner's arousal, and Booth offered her a sheepish grin as he placed a lingering kiss against her flushed forehead.

"It's all for you, Bones," he murmured, alluding to her earlier remark, and Brennan regarded him solemnly.

"Well, lucky me," she retorted, and her mischievous smile expanded to epic proportions when Booth's body began to convulse in a spontaneous coughing fit. They burst into uproarious laughter, oblivious to the din they were generating until a distant voice ordered them to 'shut the hell up.' Brennan snorted, raising her head to gaze at her partner amusedly, and their inane grins showed no signs of waning as they studied each other absorbedly. Their eyes were alight with mutual understanding, and they no longer had to worry about the consequences of staring for too long.

The thrill of anticipation was intoxicating, but the awkwardness Brennan usually felt when embarking on a new relationship was conspicuously absent - she felt so comfortable in her partner's company that being nestled in his arms felt like an inevitability; a natural progression. She hummed her approval as Booth's hand slipped beneath the fabric of her pyjamas to caress the bare skin of her lower back, and as she sought out his lips for a prolonged goodnight kiss, Brennan inwardly acknowledged that sometimes it was worth taking a risk – even when the odds were stacked against you.


End file.
